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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140040">There, and Back Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeyye/pseuds/hawkeyye'>hawkeyye</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Exile [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant Original Rassilon, F/M, Fade to Black, Gratuitous use of telepathy, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon Characters, Semi Fanon Gallifrey, Temporary Character Death, Timey-Wimey, Warning - Spoilers in Tags, some sexual content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:02:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>92,405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeyye/pseuds/hawkeyye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing into a Time Lady is hard enough, but growing up as the Lord President's ward is even harder. Especially when it seems as though all of Gallifrey and strangers alike want to tell you how to live your life and who you're going to become.</p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <br/>  </p>
</div>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Meyerodeon/Dahlesquintelias, Rassilon/Omega, Rodageitmososa/Bren, Rodageitmososa/Perigraphaltas, Rodageitmososa/T’kqzo, Sax/Odell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Exile [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/20309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisi/gifts">elisi</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvia313/gifts">silvia313</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the beginning of a mass rewrite of an existing story. Small edits may occur. It's hard to explain, but I've improved as a writer and this was a labour of love back in the day, so I decided to give it some TLC.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"My father commanded respect.<br/>When they died they left no instructions,<br/>Just a legacy to protect."</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- "Wait For It", Hamilton: An American Musical</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Castellan stood at the door of her home, his helmet in his hands, and Rodageitmososa felt very, very small.</p>
<p>He was bigger than she’d thought he was. At the big speeches he sometimes made at preschool, or the broadcasts she sometimes saw her father scowling at, he was a lot smaller. One man in a sea of Time Lords. Instead, filling the door frame as well as any boulder, he now seemed immense. Overbearing. Too much. She got the feeling he was trying to look kind (or at least less annoyed), in the way he had taken off his helmet, and his hair was sticking up like static and he was half-crouched down to her level. But at the grand old age of eight, any adult, any fully-fledged Time Lord just felt like a giant. And the Castellan, so her father always said when he thought she wasn’t listening, meant ‘bad news’.</p>
<p>There were other strangers behind him. Roda looked around him, counting the legs. More strangers in Prydonian red and Chancellery gold. That meant that they were from her chapter, and they were Time Lords which meant that she should be able to trust them, but something wasn’t right. They couldn’t possibly have been there to see <em>her</em>, all six legs of them. She was barely not a Tot, had only just looked into the Untempered Schism. Surely they were here to see her father, but he wasn’t here. He was late. And her father was <em>never</em> late.</p>
<p>“Rodageitmososa?” Asked the Castellan, his voice filling the room like cement. She nodded tentatively, one hand on her robes, one hand on the book she’d been reading. “Of the House Meyerodeon?”</p>
<p>She nodded again, not sure what else she could say, and then summoned up all her courage and lifted her head to meet his eyes. They were lost under a bushel of eyebrows, oddly out of place on his pale bald head, and seemed as unsure what to do with her as she was with him.</p>
<p>“This…” She swallowed, and then started again. “This is the Prydonian Library. Fath- Lord Meyerodeon’s Library. He’s not home.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.” The Castellan stepped half around and half over the young Time Lady, the Chancellery Guards flanking him and shutting the door with a gentle thump. “No, he is not.”</p>
<p>Roda’s brow furrowed.</p>
<p>“Why are you here, then?”</p>
<p>The question evidently surprised the older man. Roda heard his guards murmuring behind him as they took removed their helmets, and fanned out to surround her. In the lobby that led on one side to her home and the other to the domed Library, Roda took an unconscious step back. No, she didn’t like this at all, not one bit. It didn’t take a grown up Time Lord to know something was <em>definitely</em> wrong.</p>
<p>It was one of the Guards who moved first. A younger looking woman - although with Time Lords, that didn’t count for much - with cropped red hair and freckles. She knelt down on one knee, reaching out for Roda’s shoulder as she attempted to smile gently. Roda let her touch her, but didn’t let down her guard. The Time Lady squeezed it gently, and then - after a quick glance at her supervisor, who nodded sharply - rested her hand on Roda’s small, cool cheek.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Rodageitmososa.”</p>
<p>Roda frowned. “Sorry? For what?” She looked over her shoulder, at the library, as though her father would appear at any second and help her out of this situation. “Father will be - be home soon, he can talk to you then.”</p>
<p>The woman pursed her lips sadly. “There has been… an incident.”</p>
<p>The Castellan interrupted brusquely, as authoritative as ever. “Lord Meyerodeon of the House Meyerodeon was found dead earlier this evening, in the company of Shobogan rebels.” The bottom seemed to drop out of Roda’s stomach, and tears rushed unbidden to blur her vision. <em>No. It has to be a mistake…</em> “It is believed he was murdered by the rebels, though an investigation is yet to be undertaken.”</p>
<p>For a long time, Roda just stood there, frozen to the spot, unsure what to say. She blinked away tears that continued to fall, racing down her cheeks, and didn’t realize she had let go of her book until it hit the floor with a thud. As she stood there, mind running away from her, from the news, she was faintly aware of the Time Lady pulling her into a motherly embrace, and saying something to her. But the words didn’t make sense, or fell on deaf ears. She shook her head, not resisting the hug but refusing the information. As if denying it would make it untrue. And then a spark of inspiration struck her, and she looked over the Time Lady’s shoulder at the Castellan, her arms still limp at her side.</p>
<p>“He can’t be dead.”</p>
<p>“Rodageitmososa…” The Castellan was stern, almost impatient. He looked at her like she was just a Tot, a weary expression on his face. “I have identified his body my-“</p>
<p>“But he can’t be!” Roda interrupted, shaking her head and sticking loose curls to her wet cheeks. “He can’t be, he wasn’t on his last regeneration.”</p>
<p>The Castellan opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again, his eyes narrowed in confusion. He crouched down in front of Roda, moving his Guard out of the way and gripping her shoulders with a strange look on his face that she almost wanted to flinch away from.</p>
<p>“What did you say?”</p>
<p>“He - he had four lives left. He can’t be dead,” repeated Roda, tears turning angry, “you’re wrong.”</p>
<p>“Young Lady-!”</p>
<p>“No!” She pushed the Castellan, shoving him away from her as she shook her head, looking around. “You made a mistake, you have to go talk to him, this is all a-“</p>
<p>“Rodageitmososa…” The Time Lady reached out for her, trying to take hold of her again but Roda stepped out of her way.</p>
<p>“He’s not dead…” She said quietly, full of resolve. “He’s just late.”</p>
<p>Silence fell across the lobby as the Castellan straightened up to his full height once more, and his Guards crowded around him. Roda hardly paid attention to what they were saying, wanting to leave, to go and find her father. She wasn’t supposed to leave after dark, but this was a misunderstanding, a horrible mistake. He would understand if she just explained that she was scared, that the Castellan had told her he was dead, that she just had to see him. But the Guards were between her and the door, and the Castellan was never wrong. That was what everybody said. The Castellan was never wrong, but he said that her father was… was…</p>
<p>A voice snapped her out of her thoughts, a hand waving in front of her face. The Castellan, looking down at her like she was a naughty child. Roda frowned, and he studied her before repeating his statement.</p>
<p>“If what you say is true,” he said slowly, “then an inquiry will be made. But Lord Meyerodeon is dead. There was no trace of regenerative energy within the body.”</p>
<p>“Sometimes it happens,” said the Time Lady gently. “An injury is too bad, someone cannot get to a Zero Room in time…”</p>
<p>“No...”</p>
<p>“I am sorry,” said the Castellan once again. Empty words, landing on hollow ears. “What is done is done. The Shobogan have been apprehended. There will be justice.”</p>
<p>Roda felt her knees give out from underneath her, but the Castellan continued taking.</p>
<p>“You are to be remanded into the care of the Prydonian Chapter until your graduation from the Academy. The assets of the House of Meyerodeon will be kept in trust until then.”</p>
<p>Her father had been so alive this morning. Up hours before she was, doing her hair, sorting books, gathering supplies for the visit he has been planning to make outside the Citadel. She could still hear his gruff laugh, picture his smile, feel his lips kissing her forehead as he told her not to be late in her first year of classes. She had sulked, and fought him all the way through untangling her hair, and complained about him to Perigraphaltas. And still he hadn’t been mad at her, hadn’t even raised his voice. He couldn’t be<em> dead</em>.</p>
<p>She wasn’t sure if she had said goodbye that morning.</p>
<p>“How - how did he die?”</p>
<p>“An autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow,” was the brisk, cold response. Roda looked at her hands, looked at the discarded book, and paid no attention to the Time Lady’s attempts to comfort her. She wanted to curl up into a ball and close her eyes and wait for her father to find her. To explain that he was still alive. But when she opened her eyes again, he still wasn’t there. “If you wish to view his body, it is being preserved  in a Zero Room within the Citadel.”</p>
<p>Preserved. As though he was a specimen, not a Time Lord. She didn’t think she could stand to see him like that, so devoid of life. She didn’t even want to think about it. Tears still flowing freely she made fists and tried to wipe her eyes dry, and mumbled into the sleeve of her robes.</p>
<p>“What am I supposed to do?”</p>
<p>“As you have no living relatives remaining in the Citadel, you are to become the ward of your Head of Chapter.” Roda swallowed, only half listening to the answer. <em>Head of Chapter… ward… Meyerodeon is dead…</em> “I will give you time to collect what belongings you need immediately. After that you will be accompanied to the Prydonian Academy where you will spend the night.”</p>
<p>“I need my father.”</p>
<p>The Castellan studied Roda for a minute, their eyes meeting, before replacing his hat on his head and turning away. The silent Guard followed swiftly after and with a gentle smile, the Time Lady gestured awkwardly at the door to her living quarters as the Castellan shut the door behind them.</p>
<p>“Do you need help?”</p>
<p>Roda took a second to answer, tears giving way to numbness. She shook her head.</p>
<p>“I don’t need anything.”</p>
<p>The woman pursed her lips sadly. “Perhaps clothes? A doll?” She bent and picked up the dusty book. “Something to read?”</p>
<p>Silently, Roda took the book from the woman’s slender fingers and clasped it to her chest. It was one of her father’s favourites. It smelled of paper and time, ink and him. It was an old book, from Sol-3; an original print that he had been particularly proud to find a copy of. The hills on the illustrated cover were green and mountainous, the sky blue and cream, nothing at all like Gallifrey. It was a world Roda had always longed to run away to, ever since her father had first taught her to read the words on the cover: <em>There, and Back Again</em>. Since then, she had read it so many times that the initials of the author had almost rubbed away, and the pages were dogged and folded from the attentions of father and daughter alike. It wasn’t taken out of the Library often, and it wouldn’t be missed by anyone but her father. Now, it wouldn’t be missed by anyone.</p>
<p>Her precious cargo held against her breaking hearts, Roda allowed herself to be led by the Chancellery Guards with an empty expression on her face, certain that with her father gone, she would never truly return home again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"Is she trouble, like I'm trouble?<br/>Make it a double twist of fate or a melody."</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- "She's a Rebel", Green Day</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Seven years later...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You see Lord President, the girl is a menace!”<br/><br/><em>Trust Professor Borusa only to tell his side of the story</em>, thought Roda darkly, perched on a stool that was almost too tall for her feet to touch the ground, her bruised hand resting tenderly in her lap. She sat and seethed, refusing to make eye contact with anything but her knees, aware that her face was red with rage. She couldn’t find it in her to care.<br/><br/>Lord Borusa had had it out for her, it seemed, since the very first day she had moved in to the Prydonian Academy. It had not been ‘fitting’, she remembered him saying, to disturb him in the evening to take in a Tot in their first year of education. <em>Could not</em>, he had continued, <em>some loomless House take her in and be done with it?</em> Roda had been very quiet that first night at the Academy, curling up in a bed that was too big in a room that was too grand and had decided that if Borusa was going to hate her, then she could just as easily hate him. Though her other professors had been kinder - some even going so far as to offer what help they could, or somebody for her to talk to - Borusa had held that personal inconvenience against her from day one. Seven years on, his opinion of her had not approved any.<br/><br/>Life at the Academy had become the new normal, and in a way, Roda hardly remembered what life had been like before it. A few weeks after her father’s death, the Castellan had visited once again to inform her that the cause of her father’s death had been inconclusive, and that the case had been closed with the execution of the Shobogans who had been at the scene of the crime. At the time at least, Roda had thought nothing of it and thrown herself into studies, trying to do what it felt like her father would have wanted her to do. If she could bury herself in books and lessons, leaving herself no time to think about what was no longer there, then perhaps it wouldn’t hurt.<br/><br/>It had still hurt, of course. Even now, it still did. It hurt not to see him in the mornings, not to be able to show him what she was working on. At the start of the last semester, they had begun being taught how to care for TARDIS coral and Roda knew that her father would have loved it. She had begged and pleaded with the Castellan to allow her to take a sample of coral from his now-compounded TARDIS, and eventually he had agreed; if only because she had pointed out that as soon as she was of age, the estate of the House of Meyerodeon would be hers anyway, and perhaps because he had wanted to shut her up. It would take years to fully grow, she was told, but it was the one piece of her father that she had, and Roda treasured it more than anything else on Gallifrey.<br/><br/>And now she might lose everything, just because she had hit somebody that she shouldn’t have.<br/><br/>“She should be expelled <em>immediately</em>!” Oblivious to or uncaring of her inner turmoil, Borusa continued to pace in front of the Lord President, practically frothing at the mouth with rage. For his part, Lord Rassilon stood with one hand on his chin, listening to the tirade in complete silence. “Attacking her elders for no apparent reason - a Time Lord in the Council, no less!” Borusa threw his hands in the air, and Roda tried not to roll her eyes. “She does not pay attention in my lectures, she is downright disrespectful in general and now <em>this</em>!” He raised his arm to show Lord Rassilon, where an admittedly nasty-looking bruise was beginning to spread across his forearm. Roda hadn’t realised she was capable of <em>that</em>. “I demand she be dealt with immediately.”<br/><br/>“You demand.”<br/><br/>The Lord President’s voice was quiet, but powerful. Even Roda found herself flinching in her chair, stealing a glance up at him. Lord Rassilon was a tall man, with long auburn hair tied back and held in place by his ceremonial collar and a well-trimmed beard. Unlike most members of the Council, he was broad and well-muscled, and it was easy to see how he might have fought the vampires and the Sisterhood of Karn as it was written in her <em>Gallifreyan History 101</em> textbook. He struck a strong pose, and his presence filled the room more than the irate professor even without the rich burgundy robes he wore, or the ornate staff he was not seen without. His expression had been deadpan throughout the whole conversation, but as he spoke Roda saw the side of his eye twitch in barely noticeable annoyance, and fought the urge to tiptoe out of the office while his attention was elsewhere.<br/><br/>Beside him, Roda felt she looked far less composed. He didn’t have too much height on her, she would have guessed, but she was skinny and pale and no matter how hard she tried to keep it under control she had never managed to deal with her hair as well as her father had. She had let her black hair grow out, almost to the small of her back, and little wisps of hair seemed to escape from its bondage every time she moved her head. The robes she wore always felt a size too big for her, and indeed they were rolled up to her elbows right now, folded underneath themselves until they stayed in place so that she could write with a quill without turning the hem of her tunic blue and having to scrub it clean. Awkwardly she let her good hand slide up her arm as she fiddled with an unraveling thread, waiting to see what happened next.<br/><br/>“I - I mean that is I <em>request </em>that you-”<br/><br/>Borusa’s stopped stammering as soon as the Lord President held up a hand for silence, shutting his mouth obediently. Roda saw Rassilon look down at her, and quickly turned her gaze back to the ground as he gave a thoughtful hum, hoping that he hadn’t seen her watching him.<br/><br/>“Lord Borusa, were I you I would choose my words more carefully,” declared the Lord President, diplomatically. Roda couldn’t help a small smirk from tugging at the edge of her mouth, and bit her lip to stop it from growing into a bigger smile. <em>Yes</em>, she thought, <em>he</em> should <em>keep his mouth shut, shouldn’t he. If he had, we wouldn’t all be here. </em>“Remember to whom you speak.”<br/><br/>“I - yes, Lord Rassilon.”<br/><br/>“Now…” The President cleared his throat. “I understand your… concern, but why did you summon <em>me</em> and not the child’s guardian?”<br/><br/>Roda’s stomach lurched. She made an involuntary noise before she could stop herself, and felt more than saw two pairs of eyes turn on her with mixed emotions. It brought a blush rushing up her face to her ears, and she curled her hands into fists in her lap, deeply embarrassed and unsure what to say. But Professor Borusa spoke before she could.<br/><br/>“She has no relatives to speak of, Lord President.”<br/><br/>“No relatives?” Out of the corner of her eye, Roda saw Lord Rassilon raise an eyebrow. He looked at her briefly, as though reading something about her in a glance. “She is of the House of Meyerodeon, is she not?”<br/><br/>“An extinct house, Lord. She has,” Borusa wrung his hands, “that is to say she has lived at the Academy since she was-”<br/><br/>“My father is dead, Lord Rassilon. It’s just me.”<br/><br/>It took all of Roda’s courage to speak up, and she felt her knuckles shake in her lap as she tried to remember how one was supposed to address the Lord President. She swallowed, watching surprise and then confusion cross over the President’s usually stoic face, only to land on frustration. But when she opened her mouth to explain further, he turned away from her and took a step towards Professor Borusa, a slight edge to his voice.<br/><br/>“I was not informed?”<br/><br/>“I… we felt it prudent that she be raised here, Lord President.”<br/><br/>“And yet in such a circumstance,” said the President calmly, “an underage Time Lord is to be entrusted to the care of her Chapter.”<br/><br/>Borusa pulled a face that was almost, but not quite, sneering. “Her House was not of enough importance to bother you with such a trifling matter, Lord.”<br/><br/>Roda tilted her head to one side, curious. She had always assumed it was the Lord President who had not had time to raise her, not that he hadn’t been made aware. Of course when she was eight, she hadn’t realised that the President was the head of the Prydonian Chapter. It was something they had been taught in the Academy two years later, by which point she had grown accustomed to living at the boarding house where the children of Time Lords from the colonies such as Arcadia resided. After all, why <em>would</em> someone like the Lord President care about her? She was just one orphaned child, after all. More or less a nobody.<br/><br/>Curiousity swiftly gave way to anger once again. <em>She</em> could think herself unimportant, just one person, but Borusa… she shook with rage. ‘Not of enough importance’ her left foot. He had always spoken ill of her father, and thought little of her in turn, and yet she felt as though she had done <em>nothing</em> to earn his disdain. Her father, neither. He had been a <em>Librarian</em>, well-liked amongst the populace of Gallifrey even though he’d kept to himself. His wife, Roda’s mother, had been several generations ahead of him and died of her last when she was young, but she had had a seat on the Council, or so Roda had been told. Meyerodeon had been nothing but kind to anybody, as Roda remembered him. He hadn’t deserved to be murdered, and it still stung that as far as anyone could tell he was simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time.<br/><br/>Fury threatened to wash over her again and she pushed herself to her feet, the three-legged stool wobbling and threatening to fall in her haste. Both older Time Lords turned to stare at her, but Roda ignored the looks on their face and jabbed a finger in her professor’s direction.<br/><br/>“He was a better man than<em> you</em>-”<br/><br/>“Quiet, Rodageitmososa.”<br/><br/>Lord Rassilon didn’t have to shout. His look was more than enough. Roda shut her mouth with a snap, eyes wide with anger and disbelief. She knew he was the President, but could he defend <em>Borusa</em>?!<br/><br/>“You see what I have to deal with?” Sneered Borusa, folding his arms across his chest triumphantly. “She is out of control. How could anyone make a Time Lady out of <em>this</em>?”<br/><br/>“You-” Roda spluttered despite herself, despite the Lord President’s command, “you <em>provoked</em> me!”<br/><br/>For a moment, there was silence. Borusa looked at her as though she had grown a second head for daring to raise her voice in front of the President, and Lord Rassilon for his part simply raised an eyebrow and adjusted the grip on his decorated staff. Roda got the feeling that he was studying her, or at least coming to some kind of decision, and did her best to keep her mouth shut this time. It was one thing to have the Academy angry at her; quite another, she imagined, to have the Lord President angry at her.<br/><br/>Time seemed to drag on forever, a Jeremy Bearimy of doubt and unease. Roda stood where she’d been told to, quiet, wishing for the lives of her that she’d just stayed where she was sat and kept her nose down while the President and her professor spoke about her. Instead, she had stuck out her neck. A Houseless, all but homeless all-but Time Tot with nowhere to go if she was forced to leave school…<br/><br/>Finally, Lord Rassilon spoke, looking over Roda to the Professor.<br/><br/>“Thank you, Lord Borusa.” The professor blinked, and the President continued. “I shall deal with the task at hand, you may leave now.”<br/><br/>“But, Lord Rassilon,” Borusa’s eyes boggled, and Roda had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the expression on his face. “Don’t you think I should-”<br/><br/>“You <em>dare</em> to question me?”<br/><br/>Roda and Borusa both jumped at the sudden boom to the President’s voice, each of them taking a step back as his staff banged into the marble to punctuate his words. Without saying anything further, her Professor bowed so low that his head almost touched his knees and then vacated his office at a brisk walk, leaving Roda… alone. Alone with the great Lord Rassilon, founder of Time Lord society. Roda stood very still, hoping not to draw attention to herself and terrified of what was going to happen next, until the Lord President watched the door slide shut behind Borusa and then walked around the table to take a seat at his desk as though it was the most natural thing in the world to him. He rested his elbows on the table and gestured at the stool that Roda had jumped out of before steepling his fingers.<br/><br/>Roda almost toppled the chair in her haste to do as she was told, putting her hands on her knees and gulping.<br/><br/>“You will explain, Rodageitmososa.” He raised an eyebrow again. “And you will do so quickly, and honestly.”<br/><br/>Her mouth suddenly drier than Skaro, Roda licked her lips and began to talk a mile a minute.<br/><br/>“I - I nodded off in Quantum Physics.” She looked at her hands and then at the Lord President, hoping that she could explain herself, convince him that she had only done what she had because Borusa had goaded her into it. “I didn’t mean to, but I was up all night studying and - and I was almost late for class.” <em>Great start</em>, she chastised herself, biting the inside of her lip. <em>Convince him you</em> are<em> as worthless as Borusa said.</em> “Lord Borusa started to tell me off, and then he started saying things about my father.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “He said that I was a failure, <em>just like</em> my father, but he wasn’t a failure! He was a good man, a hard-working man! Better than Lord Borusa, anyway!” Realising that she was raising her voice, Roda paused to swallow and catch her breath, looking away again. “He can say what he likes about me, but not my father.”<br/><br/>“And so you hit him.”<br/><br/>Roda bit her lip. “I didn’t<em> mean</em> to…”<br/><br/>“A Time Lady should be more cautious of what she <em>means</em> to do…”<br/><br/>It was a terrible excuse, and she was well aware of it. But strangely, Lord Rassilon just gave her a curt nod, as though content that she hadn’t tried to lie to him. He sat there thoughtfully, and Roda wondered if she was supposed to say more, or if he was going to punish her at last. Instead, he sat up straight and made a noise for her to look at him once again.<br/><br/>“What Lord Borusa said was inappropriate and insensitive. He will be reprimanded.” Roda blinked, mouth opening in surprise. “However,” <em>ah</em>, she thought, <em>here it is</em>, “you should not have struck an elder of yours. You should have gone to another professor for guidance, or perhaps spoken to a council member with your concerns. Another Prydonian House.”<br/><br/>“I…” Roda paused. “I don’t really talk to the other Houses, Lord Rassilon. I live here,” she gestured at the door, “in the dorms.” Another pause. Rassilon pursed his lips and Roda cut in while she had the chance. “Lord Rassilon… I’m sorry I hit Lord Borusa. I didn’t <em>mean</em> - I mean I never intended to do it, it was stupid, I was just so <em>angry</em>…” She looked him in the eye, feeling her own start to grow wet with frustration, and worry. “Am I going to be expelled?”<br/><br/>“Your professor’s actions were tactless and uncalled for,” reiterated the Lord President. “Neither were your own befitting of a proper Time Lady.” Roda dropped her head into her hands, despair threatening to bring her to proper tears. “But you are still a child. If you give me your word it will not happen again, I will turn a blind eye <em>this time</em>.”<br/><br/>The tears almost began to flow out of relief. Roda felt a wobbly grin threaten to break free, and kept her head in her hands, trying to process what the Lord President had just said. She wasn’t in trouble. She wasn’t in trouble? Wasn’t expelled? She could hardly believe it. With Borusa calling the <em>President </em>she’d felt for sure that she’d finally blown it this time. But she was being given another chance, being kept on at school. She forced herself to look up at the President with a weary smile of relief, gratitude plastered all over her face.<br/><br/>“I won’t do it again, I promise!”<br/><br/>He raised a hand for quiet, and Roda nodded eagerly, shutting her mouth so fast her teeth clacked together.<br/><br/>“The matter is closed, and your lessons are cancelled for today. There is one more thing to address, however.” Roda tilted her head in confusion once more. “I understand Lord Meyerodeon was your only family.”<br/><br/>Roda nodded. It made sense that the President would know about the Houses of his Chapter, she supposed. Especially considering the fact that without a male heir, her House was extinct. It was, she’d heard muttering, beginning to become a problem amongst the Prydonians. Once well-known Houses looming renegades and rebels who left Gallifrey, or failed to graduate. There had been talk, she knew, of leadership of the Chapter being handed over to the Kitriarch of the House of Lungbarrow and she couldn’t help but wonder if Lord Rassilon wanted to distance himself from the scandal before it grew too big to ignore. Of course, it wasn’t something she thought <em>out loud.</em><br/><br/>“He was, Lord.”<br/><br/>“Then you will be my ward, as should have happened at your father’s death.” Roda could only stare, at a complete loss for words. Perhaps she had just gone mad. “And if you are to reside in my house, you will not continuing this reckless misbehaviour, am I understood?” She was aware she had said something in agreement, but the words were still processing in the back of her mind. The President’s Ward… <em>her</em>?! “I am told that despite your… transgressions, you focus in class and show some promise if you only apply yourself better. Rest assured you will not be allowed to slack under my roof.”<br/><br/>“I - yes, Lord Rassilon.”<br/><br/>“When you graduate from the Academy, you will be given your father’s estate but for now it is inappropriate for you to run a household. It will remain in trust.”<br/><br/>Despite herself, Roda snorted. “Me? Run an estate?” She shook her head. “I doubt I could even run the <em>Library</em>…”<br/><br/>“You will be instructed. For now, come.” Leaning on his staff, the Lord President pulled himself to his feet and Roda hurried to follow him. “We will return to my rooms and discuss this privately. You may return for your affairs tonight.”<br/><br/>And for the second time in her short life, Roda followed someone she had just met out one door and into a new life. This time, she couldn’t help but hope that perhaps, things would be alright. She had a chance, one that anybody in her position could only <em>dream</em> of. She just hoped she could make the most of it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, there are Hobbit references. No, they will not stop.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"A reputation for a thousand years may depend upon the conduct of a single moment.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- Ernest Bramah</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Under Lord Rassilon’s eagle eye, Rodageitmososa threw herself into her studies with renewed vigour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she had been determined to make something of herself before, that determination had only multiplied tenfold since leaving her room at the Academy. Without Borusa breathing down her neck for every perceived breach of curfew, without other students whispering about how she had moved into the Academy in the first place, she found it was much easier to </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoy </span>
  </em>
  <span>studying. She had a room in Lord Rassilon’s house - in all honesty, she suspected it had once been a workshop that he had converted hastily into sleeping quarters, but that was fine by her - and peace and quiet to do things at her own pace. It was a big room, too; she had even gone so far as to take an - admittedly lengthy - detour home from her classes one afternoon to climb in through the window at the back of the Prydonian Library that she had privately broken into years ago, retrieving some of her favourite books and a few of her father’s old belongings. It wasn’t quite a </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of course. She rarely saw the Lord President except at the occasional meal time, and the nights were almost a little too devoid of noise after seven years living in a bustling Academy, but all the same she liked it. She liked being left to her own devices, and having somewhere to retreat to that wasn’t simply another side of the Academy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, having to travel the twenty-something miles from one end of the Academy to Lord Rassilon’s side of the Citadel certainly took rather a large chunk out of her day, and meant waking up before Gallifrey’s twin suns were even in the sky. It was a small price to pay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things had been tense, at first. Lord Rassilon’s sole heir had been lost in the War with the Vampires, which was a well-known fact, but he had apparently never felt the need to have another child. She had thought to ask him about it, but decided against it in the end; after all, even months in now it still seemed as though this was all a peculiar trick of the light, and their strange arrangement could fall apart at any second. And besides, no doubt losing his son had been as hard for him as losing her father had been for her. But it was also abundantly clear to Roda even in that short time that he had little to no idea how to care for a teenager, and he certainly seemed to go out of his way to avoid asking her any question that wasn’t about her studies. She tried to tell herself that she didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to be her parent, that she had never asked for somebody to replace her father and never would… but it was still a keen hole in her hearts, one that she locked away and did her best not to think too hard about. There was no point wishing on a shooting star for something that would never happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lessons, at least, were something that they could talk about. Roda had worked out early on that for all of his duties as the Lord President, Rassilon was an engineer at heart. He had his office and his workshop and a laboratory, all of which she was forbidden from entering, and she felt certain he spent more time there than he did in his sleeping quarters. (Which it had taken her more than a week to work out the whereabouts of, since he never seemed to visit them.) It wasn’t entirely unusual to spot him in the mornings, before he headed out for the Citadel, with a smudge of oil on his cheek. It made him seem more Time Lord than President, and somehow more approachable. She still wasn’t quite at the point where she was ready to make small talk with him, but at least when he brought up the subject of school work, especially anything technical, it loosened her tongue. And true to her word, she had nothing to report that included the phrases ‘punched Professor Borusa’s smug face’ or ‘failed Spacial Cartography 1”; even if the latter had been more than a little bit of a close call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda sighed, doing her best to stretch a crick out of her neck as she arrived at the gates of the President’s quarters. They were relatively close to the central to the Citadel, which shortened the walk home a little; a grand, domed building that was as decorative on the outside as it was pragmatic on the inside. She resisted the urge to kick off her shoes as soon as she reached the scarlet grass, damp from the rainfall of earlier on. There wasn’t much grass outside of the Citadel Gardens, without leaving the walls to visit Mount Perdition. Instead, she stifled a yawn and headed up the path, giving a quick nod to the Chancellery Guard who let her pass as soon as he recognized her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Busy day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Guard half-shrugged, clearly more bored than he was irritated by Roda talking to him. “Wet,” he said, noncommittally. “My watch is over soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to be polite, Roda gave him a smile - she had never been overly fond of the Guard, not since the night of her father’s death, but at least they were less robotic than Castellan Temia himself - and slipped through the heavy mahogany front doors of the President’s chambers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quiet inside, quieter than usual. Remembering a telling off that she’d gotten earlier in the week for leaving her bag at the door, Roda shrugged it back onto her shoulder and rearranged the small pile of textbooks in her arms before making a beeline for her quarters through the circular system of rooms that made up the single story complex. Hers were somewhere in the middle, as best as she could tell, with a window that looked onto a small courtyard she’d yet to actually find a door to. When she reached it, nudging the door open with one foot, she gratefully dropped her bag and books in one corner before sinking into the small bed with a contented groan. In that second, she felt as though she could have stayed in that position for hours. Today’s lessons had had her walking back and forth the entire Academy complex all day, and she could scarcely feel the soles of her feet, let alone focus on anything that she’d learned. It would come back to her later, she was sure; after a nap, maybe. Absently, she wondered if she would see Rassilon today or if he’d be engrossed in meetings or work, and then closed her eyes just to rest them for a second only to be roused by a loud and unexpected </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat up as though electrocuted, swearing quietly as she tried to figure out which way the sound had come from. Was something wrong? Maybe it was just outside, but her window was shut firmly and in fact, she wasn’t entirely sure it opened at all. The first bang was followed up by a second, quieter one and then a gentle electrical sizzling, and Roda only realised that she was on her feet and moving when she reached the corridor and started to follow the noise. Whether it was out of curiosity or anxiety, she wasn’t sure, but she kept moving, one hand tracing the ancient Gallifreyan script on the cool corridor walls. Her way was lit by little flashes of light, and the sound of someone muttering angrily to themselves that Roda couldn’t quite recognize, but she kept on walking, if anything picking up the pace a little.  She soon found herself standing in front of one of the forbidden rooms, the door wide open for the first time since she had moved into Lord Rassilon’s house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair of legs stuck out from under machinery that she didn’t recognize, red robes bunched unceremoniously around the knees. Roda didn’t quite stop herself from laughing before she could think about who she was laughing </span>
  <em>
    <span>at</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the pair of legs jerked in surprise followed by a meaty thud that could only be someone’s head colliding with the underside of the contraption they were working on. Before she could back away or feign ignorance, she heard the Lord President clearing his throat irritably. It echoed and bounced under the metal, and Roda froze in place, certain she was about to get a lecture. Instead, he only stuck out one hand palm up, and spoke commandingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pass me the laser screwdriver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As though crossing the threshold of the room would hurt her Roda tiptoed forward, looking around the room until her eyes settled on a steel table with well-maintained tools scattered across it. It took a few seconds longer for her to find the right one, and she picked it up delicately before crouching in front of the President and placing it in his waiting hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she said, watching him return to his work with a grunt of thanks. “I didn’t mean to intrude, Ras - Lord Rassilon, I just heard the-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda put a hand over her mouth, nodding at his legs, wondering if she was supposed to leave or remain. The President made the decision for her, holding out the laser screwdriver covered in oil and requesting another tool from the table. She knew what most of them were and could guess at the rest with only one correction. They went back and forth like that for long enough that Roda began to lose track of time, utterly forgetting herself in the task of grabbing and passing and sometimes holding this, that or the next thing. From time to time Rassilon would interrupt her thoughts with a question, or an explanation of what a tool she took some time to find looked like or did, and she did her best to commit them to memory, knowing that it would be a long time until she was working with this kind of technology in the Academy and yet utterly fascinated with it. She tried not to ask too many questions but couldn’t help herself, her earlier nerves all but forgotten. She thought of the coral she would be growing no doubt until her graduation, the things she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>to a TARDIS of her very own, and made up her mind to pay more attention in her engineering classes going forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the Lord President emerged from the underside of his creation, Roda still had no idea what it was, but considering she’d been taught years ago that he had been the first person to create a TARDIS, the fact that a fifteen year old Time Lady had no idea what the first Time Lord of them all was working on wasn’t much of a surprise. She wanted to ask, but decided not to push her luck, especially when Rassilon loomed over her and wiped his hands on a well-used rag hanging on the back of a chair. He ignored her as he cleaned the oil from his hands, little black new moons remaining under his fingernails, and then took a long draught from a mug that had sat on the table all the time he was working. He only spared her a glance when he finally rested the mug gently on the table and dropped the rag beside it, suddenly reminding Roda of where she was after what must have been hours of work. She shuffled her feet, waiting to be shouted at or lectured or something, but the reprimand never came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was unaware that you had returned from your classes,” was all that he said at last, breaking the ice between them as though it meant nothing to him. She supposed it probably did. Roda chewed her bottom lip, looking for the right response to make; somehow ‘this is when I’m always home from my classes’ seemed like a bit of a cheeky thing to say. “I did not intend to be at work when you arrived, but - ahem - time ran away from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since she had met him, Rassilon chuckled, presumably at his own joke. Roda stared at him in quiet horror, trying to wrap her head around the idea that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>laugh. It didn’t seem to suit his stern countenance, or the figure he was in public. Rubbing the back of her neck, she settled on aiming for another apology.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t interrupt you again,” she promised, glancing behind her, ready to be gone. “It’s just - the bang,” she waved her hand awkwardly, “it caught my attention, and I couldn’t help myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left the door open,” replied the Lord President, apparently more at rest in his workshop than he was anywhere else. Roda swore she almost saw him </span>
  <em>
    <span>slouching</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I am to blame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, his attitude surprised her. Roda had seen Rassilon on the Council, heard all about the wars he had fought in the Dark Ages of Gallifrey. It had never occurred to her that he might - aside from a diplomat and a warrior and a scientist - be a man who had hobbies, let alone a man who was willing to be patient with a Time Tot who, by all other accounts, never did what she was told. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These tools, however.” He gestured at the table where Roda had dutifully returned every item to its haphazard spot. “I do not believe you would have used most of them at the Academy, yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda shrugged unconsciously. “I… I read. I like machines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The President gave another grunt, this time an appreciative one, and Roda couldn’t help but begin to smile slightly. “As do I, though you are no doubt aware of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They taught us that you created the first TARDIS in our first year.” Roda paused, her smile faltering. “My father taught me before that, though. About you and Omega and Vandekirian.” At the President’s surprised expression, she added: “He had a book. By…” She wracked her brain for the last time she’d picked it up. In fact, she had a funny feeling it might be in her quarters, although unread for several years. “Lord Eritus? Ertikus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ertikus.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The President’s mouth set into a line. “A not wholly accurate book, like the majority of his work, but he is one of few scholars who are... </span>
  <em>
    <span>complementary</span>
  </em>
  <span> of my old partner.” He straightened up to his full height. “Of course, history is written by the winners.” Rassilon cleared his throat, and then stroked his chin. “Regardless, your help was appreciated, even if you were once again breaking conventions.” Roda had the good grace to look sheepish. “If you wish, you may help me in the future, so long as it does not impact your studies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t believe her ears. “I - thank you! I would - I mean, I will! I won’t. Let them slack, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will be required to take notes,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at her stammering. “This work is not for </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I must have your assurance that you will not share details of what I am working on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his closing statement, Rassilon’s voice became lower, darker. Roda found herself looking at her dirty palms instead of his face, remembering that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>just been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. It was just her luck that she’d been useful enough to be allowed to stay and help, as opposed to banished to her room or worse, out of the house entirely. She felt constantly on thin ice, aware that one wrong move could be all it took to convince the President that she truly was the menace Borusa thought she was, and wasn’t worth his efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even still, she couldn’t bite down a surge of pride. She was helping </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rassilon in his personal workshop, even if it was just small and unimportant jobs that he didn’t have enough hands for. He was trusting her with the responsibility, or at least felt reasonably sure that she wasn’t going to get them both blown up just by being there. Even looking away, she began to smile again, excitement mounting. They were to learn about sonic and laser devices in either the next semester or the one after it, and after today she was even more interested in learning how they worked and perhaps even building something, herself. Maybe Rassilon would let her use some of his tools, if she proved that she was reliable. Maybe he could even </span>
  <em>
    <span>help </span>
  </em>
  <span>her, if he wasn’t too busy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was going to have to take notes as soon as she got back to her room. She didn’t want to forget </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this day, in case he had a change of heart tomorrow and decided her aid would not be required after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda shook her head, chasing away those thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be ridiculous, Rodageitmososa</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she chastised herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Helping him out is </span>
  </em>
  <span>one </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing, expecting him to help </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>is another altogether. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yet the little voice wouldn’t be entirely silenced, and even if she managed to stop grinning like an idiot, the light was still in her eyes. Realising that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>just been spoken to - Lord Rassilon, she found, had a habit of wording queries as statements of truth - she looked up again, licking her lips as she looked for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I won’t let you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See that you do not.” Rassilon gestured at the door with a jerk of his head, and Roda hurried to follow the dismissal. “And Rodageitmososa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused, looking over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> interrupt me at work without my permission again.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple."</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- Dr Seuss</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Fourteen years later...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roda… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Roda</span>
  </em>
  <span>…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodageitmososa murmured grumpily, nuzzling her face into her arm and closing her eyes tighter. She was having a perfectly fine dream. Mount Perdition at sunset, moons rising over the cliffs as the suns set behind them. It was quiet, but for the sound of birds somewhere in the distance and a tafelshrew digging a burrow to spend the night in. The grass was soft beneath her, the cool breeze tracing a friendly path down her face, and in that moment she very much did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to wake up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rassilon’s beard,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but whoever was trying to shake her awake could give her five more minutes…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Roda</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sh’up…” she grumbled, batting away an unknown hand, her nose wrinkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opened one eye, expecting to see her sleeping quarters, only to suddenly jerk awake as she remembered where she was. Her head bounced off the back wall of the lecture hall and she grimaced, rubbing her crown and risking a glance across the room from behind a pile of books in the hopes that she hadn’t - couldn’t possibly have - made as much noise as she felt as though she had made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her relief, Professor Borusa was still chattering on, utterly oblivious to her most recent failure in a long string of incessant complaints. From time to time he smacked his cane against the projector board, making a point about some topic that Roda had lost the thread of about the same time she’d arrived in class. She had been up far too late the night before, poring over notes on the calibrations she had helped Lord Rassilon make to his latest pet project. He had been doing something with his TARDIS and though she’d hardly kept track of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>exactly had been done, she had stayed up almost until the sun was done trying to work it out. Though she’d made it as far as her third class of the day and had hoped to make it to the end of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>before their free period, she was instead beginning to pay the price now. The room they were in seemed to have no ventilation whatsoever, and was warm enough to have forty unplanned winks in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed, letting her chin rest on the table and continuing to poke at the growing bump on her head as she looked to the left and the source of the voice that had woken her up from her ill-timed nap. The bespectacled, perpetually baby-faced visage of Perigraphaltas looked down at her, eyes wide behind the tinted lenses he wore, and Roda tried to put a sheepish grin on her face as she hissed at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long was I out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perigraphaltas - Peri, to exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>person who refused to listen to his insistence that they use his full name - wrinkled his nose, wobbling his hand indescriptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five, ten minutes?” he whispered back, doing his best not to be seen by the Professor either. Roda swore quietly, and he shot her an unimpressed look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted discreetly. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>snore </span>
  </em>
  <span>when you sleep longer than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when do you watch me sleep?” smirked Roda, nap momentarily forgotten. A blush spread across Peri’s face in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I’ve been trying to wake you, but you were muttering about-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perigraphaltas, Rodageitmososa, does my class </span>
  <em>
    <span>bore </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both young Time Lord and Lady sat up straight in their chairs, eyes wide in shock, as Professor Borusa began to tape his cane across his open palm. Roda swallowed, readying herself for a lecture but from the look on Peri’s face, she would have thought he was prepared for an execution. He, unlike her, was a model student; an Arcalian of House Kadenwood with an unblemished record and a mop of angelic blond locks that Roda couldn’t help but tease him for. ‘Quantum Physics’ was one of the few classes that the Chapters took together, in a trio of split periods, and if it weren’t for Peri Roda doubted she would have made it as far as she had without retaking her exams a couple dozen times. He had the patience of a saint as well as the hair of one, and had been sharing his notes with Roda for as long as she could remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, thanks to her, he was about to get into trouble for perhaps the first time in his entire twenty nine years of life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Lord Borusa!” piped up Peri, colour rushing from his face like it had been bleached. “We were just making sure that I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case,” droned their teacher, “I’m sure Rodageitmososa won’t mind reminding me where I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>….?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda cursed again, and Peri nudged her in the side as she tried to squint at the board and make an educated guess. Borusa was standing </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the way of the current slide, and sitting at the back of the class she couldn’t quite make out the small print. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Detention, then, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought to herself, bitterly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All for a nap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah…” she began, as her friend hurriedly slid his notes across the table towards her, hurriedly tapping a hastily scribbled line of what almost seemed like nonsense to her. “Fluc...tations in isotropic energy!” she announced, frowning briefly at the parchment. The ink had smudged. “In relation to octahedral temporlateral spectrometry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside her, Peri gave a quiet, relieved sigh. Reading the note over again, Roda vaguely recalled </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>about dysprosium and xenotime, but she really hoped the Professor wasn’t about to press her for more details. Nothing else of the class had sunk in. But Peri had saved her again. With a look on his face that suggested he had just stepped in faeces, their Professor snorted and returned to his lecture, apparently unable to find fault with her answer or a reason to snap at them again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once his back was turned, Roda breathed a sigh of relief, and sank into the hard fiberglass chair she was sat in. She pinched the bridge of her nose and glanced at Peri, who rolled his eyes before licking the tip of his quill and returning to his note-taking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just be more careful,” said Peri fondly, the matter closed. “I can’t bail you out forever. Now lemme write.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda patted him on his free hand and tried to do the same. The least she could do to thank him was try to pay attention for the rest of the period. Hopefully Rassilon wouldn’t ask too many questions tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the morning went by in a blur. Roda nodded off again in her next class, but without Peri to wake her up she wound up staying behind to help Professor Mordacintredanis tidy up. Making the lesson after that one meant sprinting across the bridge and the discomfort of her robes sticking to her skin kept her awake until she had a couple of free periods in a row. A little voice at the back of her mind was at least relieved that Peri wasn’t going to see her looking so rough, but she would have appreciated his company by the time she found somewhere to sit and catch her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Graduation couldn’t come fast enough. Once upon a time the Academy had excited her, but the more she was there the less interested she was in being stuck inside listening to old Time Lords and Ladies lecture her. There had to be a better way to learn, something more hands-on. Eventually she knew they would get to visit other planets and learn about the universe and it couldn’t come fast enough. She wanted to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>out there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, actually doing something instead of just listening. It seemed as though she learned more in an evening watching Rassilon than an entire week of classes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she got her symbiotic nuclei and her TARDIS license she planned to put Gallifrey behind her for a couple centuries and go somewhere else in time and space. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of course. Just long enough to learn something that mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun fractured through the domed ceiling of the Academy, painting a kaleidoscope on the marble beneath her feet. Roda snuck her shoes off, hiding them under her robes and looking up at the sky. She was going to keep her eyes opened, she decided - stay awake all through her break - otherwise she wouldn’t get </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>sleep tonight and would be just as flakey in class tomorrow. But it was easier said than done. It was warm and quiet, with half of the students still in lessons and the rest deeply engrossed in their own social circles or study groups. Roda wasn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>friendless </span>
  </em>
  <span>but she wasn’t popular, either, which suited her fine. She had Peri and Kai, and she didn’t need more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mind you, resting her head in Peri’s lap for an hour did have its appeals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little Prydoni.” The unfamiliar voice stirred Roda from her thoughts, and she looked up into the eyes of a tall figure in hooded red robes. She frowned, more than a little uncertain. “Can I sit here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was plenty of room on the bench, and Roda couldn’t think of a good reason to say ‘no’. With a hum of resigned acquiescence, she shuffled to one side, using one bare toe to tug her shoes along with her. As the stranger took a seat beside her (no doubt cooking in his heavy robes) she tensed up and began fishing for a good reason to leave. Still, she didn’t recognize them at all. With the hood, it was hard to get a good look at him. There was a messy layer of stubble on his jaw that seemed to be more the result of someone forgetting to shave than it was a style, and she saw bandages wrapped around some of his fingers as he made himself comfortable on the bench. An engineer, maybe? But then, surely he could just go to a Zero Room and deal with that. Not that she was about to press him for details.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While she was thinking, the stranger stretched out and gave a contented sigh, their gaze travelling to the domed, transparent ceiling with what seemed to be a wistful expression. Roda tilted her head to one side, curious, and followed his line of sight. There wasn’t anything in particular overhead. Just the usual red skies of Gallifrey, and a cloud shaped like a flubble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve missed this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon amis</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” murmured the newcomer. Roda tugged at her lip, even more baffled. “Two suns. No running.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Roda knew she just looked confused, and almost but not quite apologetically the stranger clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gallifrey. Just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>sitting here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the Academy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted, a mirthless laugh. “What, with Professor Borusa?” Roda couldn’t help but grin before she could catch herself. “Not likely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Prydonian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “No. It’s just me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And in one short sentence, her hackles went back up again. It was innocuous enough, but there was something not quite right about the way he said it. Like there were layers she couldn’t quite understand, and yet he was speaking perfect Gallifreyan and his robes were the same colour as hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just…” she shook her head, unsure and not liking it. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Look</span>
  </em>
  <span>, who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a good day.” It was like he wasn’t even listening, and she wrinkled her nose in frustration. “I missed the view.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you travel, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he was here for a conference, or something. Or to give a lecture? It wasn’t as though the Academy grounds were off limits to other Gallifreyans, but it wasn’t exactly a public park either. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked </span>
  </em>
  <span>Time Lord, anyway, spoke Gallifreyan. Certainly didn’t look like a Shobogan, not in robes like that, even old ones. She had no reason to be scared of him or think she was in any sort of danger, but some instinct she didn’t know she had was telling her to get up and move. That something about him wasn’t on the level. Like she couldn’t quite see him, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>really.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowered his hood for just a second to run a hand through messy brown hair, and Roda caught sight of a braided leather bracelet around his wrist. Noticing her checking it out, he put his hand over the bracelet and let go of the hood, which settled gently on the back of his neck, forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to,” he chuckled, tucking the leather into the sleeve of the robes. “Bit too busy these days, but I couldn’t resist a trip home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>Prydonian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t say that!” He laughed harder this time, evidently more amused. “You really </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>ask as many questions as I remembered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do- do I know you?” Roda stood up, slipping on one of her shoes as she did so. “Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man jumped to his feet, slipping the hood up at the same time. He reached into a pocket inside of his robes, and Roda stepped back in alarm, wondering if she should… what? Call for help? Scream? Defend herself? But as she looked over her shoulder, wondering how she had only just now realized exactly how quiet this part of the Academy had now become, plans failed her. She snapped her head back around, a biting question on her lips only for the man to thrust a book towards her with a wry grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda stared at his hands as though the book was a bomb about to explode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Borrowed this. From the Library.” He gave a shameless shrug. “Yes, yes, I know it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon amis </span>
  </em>
  <span>but well,” he rubbed his neck, “I know where Meyerodeon kept the spare key.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?” Roda asked again, paling at the mention of her father. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who </span>
  </em>
  <span>is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this weirdo?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>“How do you know me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve known you since you were born, Rodageitmososa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew your father,” he added hurriedly, as though as an afterthought. “You can trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Can </span>
  </em>
  <span>I?” Roda shook her head, snatching back the proffered book. Whoever the Skaro he was, she didn’t want him to have her father’s books. She took a second to skim through the book, looking for a psychic fingerprint, something to prove it came from the Library, and her frown only deepened when she found what she was looking for. “I don’t have a clue who in Rassilon’s name you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger pulled a face, and then turned on his heel, readying to walk away. Roda took a wary step back, running her fingertips over the book and then turning it over. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Howard Pyle. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not an author she recognized, but the name certainly wasn’t Time Lord. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do me a favour?” She looked up as the man spoke again, his hand on his other wrist and his back to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because if you don’t, your keeper will lose his </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Rassilon?” He wasn’t her - her </span>
  <em>
    <span>keeper</span>
  </em>
  <span>! He was her guardian, mentor, roof over her head. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>keeper</span>
  </em>
  <span>? It wasn’t a prison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger snorted. “Old Raz,” Roda spluttered in response, “doesn’t exactly like me. Better not tell him we spoke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how can you trust I won’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger turned around to face her one more time, and winked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’ve known you all your life.” He smiled. “And so have you.”</span>
  <span>And before Roda could open her mouth - before she had any idea what to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>say </span>
  </em>
  <span>- the stranger disappeared in a compression of white light.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it."</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- Oscar Wilde</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Forgot to put this on my AO3, so big thanks now to my beta, @Elisi!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’re running late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda stifled a yawn as she nodded to the guard at the gate, her mind still reeling from the strange encounter from earlier on. He looked at her, obviously half-bored, but he was one of the cheerier ones. Not long out of the Academy, friendly enough; if Rassilon hadn’t noticed the time she was getting home, this one wouldn’t tell on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was studying,” she shrugged, the strange book still stuffed under her arm. “Lost track of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky.” The guard moved to let her pass, ruffling her hair as she did, and Roda turned to give him her fiercest scathing look. “He’s late, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inwardly, Roda breathed a sigh of relief, her hearts slowing down for the first time in hours. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good, then I can sneak in without him asking about Borusa </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>that Time Lord. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She forced herself to smile, trying to look sheepish and finding she didn’t really have to put much effort into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank Rassilon for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Literally!” The Time Lord winked, laughing at his own joke. “Better head in though, just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t need telling twice. With the door locked - not too uncommon an event, really - she had to switch the book to the other arm to hold her palm up to the genetic lock. It blinked and then beeped twice, disabling the security system so she could duck inside. As she headed for rooms at a power walk she heard it beep again, distantly, signalling that the door was sealed once again, and then picked up speed. The last thing she wanted to do was be caught in the corridor with a book from Earth telling the stories about a renegade human and a band of ‘Merry Men’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda had spent the rest of the day with her nose in the stranger’s book, only lifting her head long enough to pretend she was paying attention when someone spoke to her or a Professor looked her way. It was… fascinating! Forbidden, foreign. The second she’d had a good look at the title, something had clicked into place at the back of her mind; a memory buried twenty one years ago when it hadn’t meant anything to her. The name hadn’t made sense at all when she’d looked into the Untempered Schism what felt like aeons ago, but now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to her sleeping quarters slammed shut behind her as Roda forgot to be sneaky in her excitement. The stranger was practically forgotten as she slumped to the floor, resting her back against the wood and dropping the book onto her lap. This was too important to bother making it to the bed, and her satchel still hung around her shoulder, slowly slipping off. Ignoring it she read each word a letter at a time, drinking them in like water in the desert, a giddy grin on her face as she read them aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood of Great Renown in Nottinghamshire…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like speaking gospel, a truth that was just for her. She looked briefly around the room, as though suspicious that someone would look in on her secret and steal it away from her before she could commit it to hearts. She had read the entire book already, from cover to cover, and she felt as though she knew the figures in it like old friends. Robin Hood, the leader of his group of thieves in a forest in ‘Nottinghamshire’. Wherever that was. Brave, witty, noble, unstoppable. His best friend, Little John, not to mention Friar Tuck, Allan a Dale, Will Scarlet and Maid Marion… They had all laid at rest in her head, waiting for her to remember them and wake them up. And now that they were awake, she knew somehow that they would never settle down again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda yawned again, and slapped her cheeks to keep herself from nodding off. This was too exciting, too interesting. She had to learn </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>there was to know about these new friends. She pushed herself to her feet, clasping the book tightly before hiding it under her pillow and looking around the room for some sort of clue. She had heard that name in the Schism, though she hadn’t known it at the time. ‘Robin’, ‘Roda’, ‘Red’, ‘Rohan’. They had all echoed through her mind and she’d wondered for years if the Schism had been…. confused? Not quite getting her name right? Now though, she wanted to recall every other detail of that initiation. She pressed the balls of her hands to her eyes, muttering to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Green. She remembered green. A deep, cloaking shade like nothing she had seen on Gallifrey before. Green light, green grass, green trees and in the middle of it, a flash of red like an eye watching her. Roda cast her gaze at the books that always laid by her bed, thinking about Middle Earth and the omnipotent eye of Sauron. Omnipotent - like Rassilon, Gallifrey, the Prydonian Chapter. Was that </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>what the Schism had meant after all? It was the green, though, that she really wanted to think about. The same colour as the cover of the new book, a shade that she now knew was called ‘Lincoln Green’. The same Lincoln Green that Robin and his men donned themselves in on their adventures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book was written in the same language as </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Hobbit </span>
  </em>
  <span>and so it must have come from Sol-3, too. Roda began with a book on Mutter’s Spiral that had come to her already dog-eared and scribbled all over even before she had gotten hold of it. In an unforgivingly hard chair at her desk she turned on her lamp, skimming through the pages for some mention of Nottingham. Once, twice, three times she checked the index, the glossary, looking for any hints and finding nothing. Frustrated, she tossed the book across the room at her bed and banged her head on the table. The idea that it wasn’t important enough to whoever had read the book seemed somehow laughable. It had apparently been enough for someone to </span>
  <em>
    <span>steal </span>
  </em>
  <span>it from the Prydonian Library, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Robin Hood was forgotten, and she glanced out the small window as her thoughts drifted to the strange man at the Academy. Who was he? How did he know her? What had made him want </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>book that for some reason meant so much to her? And if he had a way into the Library, why would he go out of his way to seek her out and return it by hand? None of it made a lick of sense, and she was tempted to bang her head once again in some vague hope it would recalibrate her thoughts. Nothing came to mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His warning, though, seared her brain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Better not tell him we spoke. </span>
  </em>
  <span>By all rights she should have sent Lord Rassilon a message already, alerting him to some strange Time Lord at the Academy but she hadn’t. A little voice had told her to listen, and to do as she was told; the same voice that drilled the importance of Robin Hood into her. An untrained instinct told her that he was right; Rassilon </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be angry. And that somehow, that anger would reverberate back on her, and ruin… something. She didn’t know what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides which, what exactly was she supposed to say? </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Lord Rassilon, today a Time Lord spoke to me on Gallifrey and I didn’t recognize him.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> She could hear his response already: </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘There are thousands of Time Lords you don’t know Rodageitmososa,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> he would say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Why was this one worth wasting my time?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pazithi Gallifreya!” she snapped, slamming her hand onto the desk and reaching blindly for another book. “Can’t I get one mystery at a time?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would focus on Robin Hood for now. Unless the Time Lord showed up again, there really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>no reason to waste her guardian’s time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tome she found in her hands wasn’t one she’d really read before. It was the kind of book she might have enjoyed when she was still properly a Tot, and she’d only really thumbed through it in the last twenty years, occasionally opening it to some page or another and reading just to pass the time. ‘Heroes from Across the Universe’ was stamped across the cover in simple Gallifreyan script and primary colours, and she almost tossed it after the first book without reading it before something told her to take a look at the contents page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there he was again. She practically crowed with excitement, followed by a flash of anger that the answer had been in her room all along and she hadn’t known. There - coming up to the bottom of the list of intergalactic names she only half knew - was ‘Robin Hood’ again. Thumbing through for the correct page, she rocked on her chair and licked her lips. So he was a fairy tale? Just a character in a story? She groaned as she began to read, barely less confused than before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As one finger traced the words she rocked back further on the chair and reached for her abandoned bag, pulling out paper and a quill that had barely seen proper use all day. She wanted to take some notes, write down everything she could find about Robin Hood in every book she could lay her hands on. If she could make up some kind of excuse, she could definitely stop in at the Library on her walk home, switch out books and try to make sense of the organizational system that she was pretty certain had resided ninety percent in her father’s head. He had books from all over the universe and - it had sometimes felt - from beyond, and though Roda’s perception of it came from the age of eight it had practically seemed like a TARDIS on the inside. She kicked herself for not doing the reading at the time, when it was easy to get into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The legs of the chair hit the floor with a clank, and she stretched tired limbs to retrieve her treasure from under her pillow. But as soon as she slipped her hand into the fabric, a rap at the door made her freeze as though she’d been caught with her hand in the treat jar. She dropped the book and sat down on the bed as quickly as she could, only just managing to pull her feet up under her butt before the door opened inward at the behest of the one man in Gallifrey who could go wherever they pleased. Roda reminded herself - not at all for the first time - not to quip that a knock on the door did not immediately mean permission to enter a room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rassilon,” she said, hoping that her smile didn’t look too suspicious. “I didn’t hear you knock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment the Lord President looked as though he was going to say something about the lie, but the look on his face passed. He crossed his arms over his chest, oddly bereft of his staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My apologies. I shall endeavour to announce my presence in the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought Roda, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you probably won’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another pause. “No, Rodageitmososa. I simply came to explain my absence this afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Roda gave a small, puzzled smile. “It’s uh…” she tried to do something to tame her curls absentmindedly, and tried for a joke. “I thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the one with a curfew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Rassilon stepped into the room, closing the door behind him calmly. Roda tensed up, hoping he wouldn’t look too closely at her paperwork. After all, half of it was distracted doodles and the other half had nothing to do with the Academy. “It is good to see you more… confident.” It didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel like a compliment, although Roda got the feeling he meant it as one. Perhaps. “It was not fitting for the President’s ward to stammer when spoken to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda blinked. “I’m not a Tot anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Rassilon raised an eyebrow. “As you have demonstrated..” The President moved closer to the bed, looking down at Roda with heavy eyebrows. “Which is what I am here to talk to you about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda froze in the spot, craning her neck to look Rassilon in the eye. She didn’t like the sound of that. It was getting a little frustrating, today; older Time Lords talking as though they knew what was best. Knew everything. Whether it was the case or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are bright, Rodageitmososa.” He watched her for a second longer, and then turned around, picking up and shuffling her pile of papers. Roda’s stomach flipped as she prayed he wouldn’t read them. “But undisciplined.” His eyes narrowed at her notes (or lately, lack thereof) before he placed them down in a neat pile and sighed deeply. “I am told that your mind continues to wander in your classes, and that while you are not achieving an </span>
  <em>
    <span>omega </span>
  </em>
  <span>grade, neither are you passing with merits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda sighed. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>passing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you are not </span>
  <em>
    <span>applying </span>
  </em>
  <span>yourself.” His voice was firm, but not cruel. Disappointed, perhaps. Roda scowled at her lap. “If you are to make something of yourself with your… extenuating circumstances, then you must do </span>
  <em>
    <span>better </span>
  </em>
  <span>than you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all of Roda’s willpower not to lose her temper, the rollercoaster adrenaline of the day already threatening to get the better of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” She ran a hand through her hair, completely undoing all attempts to tidy it. “I read, I study, I - I watch you work…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You pay attention to the subjects that intrigue you,” argued Rassilon, “but a Time Lord must know </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We cannot just do what we want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a bad taste in Roda’s mouth, and she looked up at Rassilon again, blinking back dampness in her eyes. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had the responsibilities of a Time Lord drilled into her since she was eight years old. Their so-called importance, and the role they played across time and space. She knew that to be a Time Lord was to be something more in the universe than those who did not bear the weight of Gallifrey on her shoulders, and the idea that Rassilon thought she would fail at that…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>sulk, or cry. She was twenty nine years old now. She had plans. Just because she hadn’t thought to share those plans, or didn’t care much about quantum physics or dark matter, didn’t mean that she would account to </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She had centuries left in the Academy, plenty of time to learn what she didn’t know and to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>better </span>
  </em>
  <span>at what she did. Her TARDIS was doing well, she had already built her first sonic device under Rassilon’s guidance, and she at least understood the political system, even if she had no interest in it. No matter who Rassilon was, she would not let him talk down to her just as much as Borusa did. But if she spoke up, the stranger would only be right; Rassilon </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>lose his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I’ll do better,” she said quietly, biting the inside of her cheek and looking away. She dug the nails of one hand into the opposite wrist, focusing on </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>instead of her growing frustration. “I will not be a disappointment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not.” Rassilon nodded, apparently satisfied by the answer. “As such, I have arranged for extra classes for you. Remedial work, until you are at least on par with your peers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not a request, Rodageitmososa, it is an </span>
  <em>
    <span>order</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and my word is final.” Rassilon lowered his voice, going from sharp to the voice he used in politics. Roda’s grip on her arm tightened. “Until you are achieving a grade of epsilon or better, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>attend your tutoring. Should they drop further, I need not remind you of our arrangement in my work room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...yes, Lord Rassilon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The President sighed, resting his hand on Roda’s shoulder until she looked at him once more. For her part Roda did her best to look grateful and not upset. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>stopping </span>
  </em>
  <span>her from helping him - one of the highlights of her day - but his judgement sat like lead in her stomach. She enjoyed tinkering and fixing things, making them do something that they hadn’t done before. It was a welcome break from the monotony of sitting in chairs and listening to people talk all day, and even the threat of having that privilege removed made her want to study even less. </span>
</p><p><em><span>Fine then. </span></em><span>As soon as he left, she would get back to reading about Robin Hood; at least until the tension died down. If she had to take her dinner in here and pretend that she was doing as she was told, then that was fine too. He could make her go to more classes, but he couldn’t stop what she did in her own room. At least, not if he didn’t know she was doing anything that he would command her </span><em><span>to </span></em><span>stop. And if she was one thing, it was too stubborn to let a challenge like </span><em><span>that </span></em><span>pass her by. She could do what he</span> <span>wanted and make him proud, and do what she wanted and make herself proud all at the same time. Even if it meant that she could sleep when she regenerated.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Compromise is the sign of a wise Time Lord, Rodageitmososa. Improve your grade, and you will understand why I push you.” Rassilon let go of her shoulder, and Roda let out a breath she had been unknowingly holding in. “I have plans for you. I do not doubt you will achieve greatness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without another word, Rassilon stepped out of her room once more and left Roda to her thoughts. As quietly as she could, she shuffled backwards across her bed so that she could rest her head on the wall, and closed her eyes with a snort of irritation. She doubted herself just fine, without anyone else doing it for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But something about his parting statement began to needle into her brain, even as she tried to remember what they had learned at the Academy  so far about controlling their emotions, as opposed to letting them control you. (Basic telepathy, but never her forté. There was just something she couldn’t quite grasp about building up a wall and keeping it there; a barrier kept things in as much as it kept them out.) She mouthed the words back to herself, not sure if he was still in earshot of her quarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have plans for you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The side of her mouth took a dive. “What about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>plans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, she didn’t particularly want to achieve greatness. She just wanted to… be. Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but not the next Rassilon or Omega or a member of the Council or anything so grand and lofty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything, she thought - retrieving her hidden book and looking once again at the illustration of Robin Hood on the cover, his bow primed - she would like to be a hero. Someone who did what was right, kept others alive and would die for a cause. Rassilon was a hero, no Time Lord in their right mind would argue </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he was not a protector of the meek, or a bastion of justice. He was the great Rassil Onasti Prydonius, First Earl of Prydon, Lord President, Conqueror of Yssgaroth. Without him, none of them would be there… but that was just what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Robin Hood, however, had found her through time and space. Even lightyears away and centuries dead, he was still a hero. That was what she wanted to be; a tinkerer who made something new and made something </span>
  <em>
    <span>better. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She couldn’t be that on Gallifrey; not yet. But if she continued to learn, who knew what could happen?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she sure as Skaro wanted to make sure, now, that Rassilon was there to witness it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely."</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- "The Book Thief", Markus Zusak</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This, and up to chapter 8 inclusive, is unbeta'd. Partially because I got overexcited, and partially because I wanted some things (namely one of the chapters) 8 to be a surprise to my delightful beta. So all errors are mine, though I did go over them all to try and make sure there were none! Also, I now know that this story will be 22 chapters long; and was also sneaky and went back to make some slight edits (got two Chapters mixed up) and add some fancy quotes to each chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Seventy one years later…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure this is okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You only turn one hundred once, Peri. Raz can handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri - Roda decided - needed to learn to live a little. They had hardly left the Citadel behind before he had started complaining. It was too early - too late for Roda, since she’d been too excited to sleep - too cool, too reckless, too uphill. She had rolled her eyes at every single one of his issues, but none of them had managed to knock the smile off her face as she pulled him along behind her, their fingers interlaced. Being with Peri was easy, uncomplicated. Even though they had little in common it was entirely natural to sit with him for hours; sitting back to back while working on their own projects. Even Rassilon approved of him, which was almost impossible praise. There was no one else she would rather have spent the eve of her hundredth birthday with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In nearly one hundred Gallifreyan years, Roda had never seen the suns rise. Tonight, she was going to change that. For now, it was a bright and (yes, admittedly) little chilly night, but she relished in the bite of the wind against her bare face as she climbed. She had had to let go of Peri’s hand to clamber over a particularly fiddly pile of rocks, and that was when he’d started to have second (or was it third, fourth or sixth?) thoughts again. Climbing up Mount Perdition - and relatively quickly - wasn’t his idea of a good time, but he had agreed reluctantly enough and she was going to hold him to it, even if she suspected he had agreed just because she’d begged him all week. But that wasn’t the point. He <em>was</em> still here with her, and that was gift enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To reach the summit before the suns rose, they had sneaked out as soon as they were expected to be in bed for the night; even if by their age, they needed to sleep less and less and school days had gotten longer and longer. </span>
  <span>It had been easy enough for Peri - whose parents would never have imagined him capable or even interested in sneaking out - but for Roda it had been an ordeal in and of itself. Part of the thrill, if she was honest with herself. There were always members of the Chancellery Guards stationed at the President’s - Roda's - home, even if there was pretty much no chance in Skaro the rebels would be able to target him. Roda had free movement in <em>theory</em>, but she suspected that in practice they would still go straight to Rassilon if she was climbing out a window in the middle of the night on a regular basis. And even if <em>they </em>didn't post her, she was sure that Rassilon would just somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>know,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as though he had some sort of psychic proximity alarm around her which... wasn’t something she would rule out, either. But he had told her over a week ago that he wouldn’t be home that evening, and she couldn’t believe her luck. The plan had evolved from there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that she hadn’t prepared for this kind of excursion for years. When Howard Pyle’s book had fallen into her lap she’d taken it upon herself to find every single mention of Robin Hood that her father’s library had to offer. Rassilon has even encouraged her frequent visits, assuming that she was using the Prydonian Library to study for the Academy and since she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>lifted her grades above what he had wanted of her, he hadn’t culled them. When she had run out of books from and about Sol-3, she had turned to books on how to hone the kind of skills her hero had. Marksmanship, sleight of hand, bluffing - to name but a few. Even making sure that she wasn’t seen, which had been plenty help in classes where she wasn’t paying as much attention as she should have been. She wanted to learn techniques from across the universe, and then make her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At one point she had come across the line “many men speak of Robin Hood and never shoot his bow” and had taken it to heart. It was one thing to know <em>of</em> him, but she had to <em>understand</em> him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being good with her hands had turned out to be a blessing. All of the time working with Rassilon in his workshop and playing around with her own things had lent themselves nicely to becoming her inspiration. One day, it would all pay off; tonight was almost a test run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we almost there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda couldn’t help but laugh as she crouched down to give Peri a hand up, grunting with the effort of lifting her chubbier friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, seven?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Roda. You have an exam in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “and you’ve had me studying for it so much this week I have Paradox Declension coming out my ears!” Roda sighed, making sure that Peri was steady on his feet and then glancing uphill. It wasn’t Mount Cadon they were hiking up, for Rassilon's sake! The summit wasn’t too far off, and they’d be able to sit and just relax <em>much </em>sooner if he would save his breath for walking. “If I have to talk about the moral deterioration of circular dialetheism one more time, I’ll build a paradox machine myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” grinned Roda, “but <em>you</em> wouldn’t go back on your promise to watch the suns rise with me on my birthday either, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri made a noise that must have aimed somewhere between a laugh and a sigh and instead turned into one of his snorts. Which, no matter what he said, were completely adorable but also meant that she was forgiven, for now. The ever-evolving argument about the Academy and how important it was she paid attention could loom another day. Itching to get moving, however, Roda couldn’t help but drum her fingers along her arm as she waited for Peri to catch up to her so they could start moving again. She wanted to get to see the stars before the suns, and though the sky was clear enough here she was sure that the view would be best from the top. Once they were sitting down, Peri would calm down. He was especially good at astronomy and remembering long lists of names. Maybe exploring wasn't his thing, but <em>that </em>would be at least. It wouldn’t take much to get him talking about something he cared about, and though she’d have to be careful that his smile didn’t outshine the suns… <em>well</em>. Having him there was an unskippable step in making this the perfect morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are incorrigible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Roda’s eyes glittered. “But if I was corrigible, you’d have nothing to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you were corrigible,” Roda looped one arm through Peri’s and began to half drag and half support him along with her, “I would have a triple Alpha grade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda smiled to herself. Sometimes she wondered if Peri should have been Rassilon’s ward and not her. He was one of the smartest people she knew, and once they graduated she just <em>knew</em> she’d be able to drop the ‘one of’. Peri took to knowledge in general like she had to Robin Hood; bathing in it, toweling himself off and then dressing in it to dive back in once again. He actually found studying </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which was a thoroughly alien concept to her. (She wasn’t sure what sort of alien, but it certainly wasn’t the same type she was.) But his passion for learning something, anything, was why Roda had sought him out long after they had stopped having regular classes together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just that, she told herself, watching his nose wrinkle as he hesitantly hopped a small chasm in the rocks. A blush rushed to her face, and she did her best to hide it with a hand. Having him around had </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do with his cute face, or his soft voice; not that anybody had asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last forty minutes or so of their trek went by in silence; Peri starting to get out of breath and Roda focusing mostly on finding the easiest path up the mountain. Usually, she just sort of threw herself at the rocks and took obstacles as they came. This time, though, she had to map out a route they could both manage. As they crested the final rise at last and the grass began to level out, Roda soaked in the breeze while Peri sank onto a boulder and put his hands on his thighs for a couple of minutes. From a pack on her back Roda pulled out a heatstone she had built a few years ago and - sitting down so that her back was between Peri’s legs as they dangled off his seat - pressed it into his waiting palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There," she grinned. "Was that so bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was even worse than climbing it in our fiftieth year,” Peri panted. Roda let her head rest against his knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better company this time, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky.” Peri sighed, resigning himself to fate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Which, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roda couldn’t help but muse, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is just as well since we’re up here now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Zat so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Peri’s free hand ghosted unconsciously to Roda’s hair, trailing through curls that came well past the small of her back these days. She closed her eyes with a contented sigh. “I could have been in bed right now, but I think I like you more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take that as a compliment,” murmured Roda, head rushing and hearts racing as Peri continued to play with her hair as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I guess I like you better than bed too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should <em>think </em>so. Isn't your pillow still your desk?” Peri joked. Roda thumped him half-heartedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Peri’s hand left her head, and Roda heard a small whine escape her lips. “So you can tease </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but you can’t take it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say that,” Roda pouted, patting the ground beside her. “Just shut up and get down here and warm up.” She paused. “And - and tell me about the stars, or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping to the ground, Peri folded into Roda’s side like a semi-colon, heatstone on his lap. She let her head sit on top of his, their hands almost touching in the grass while she contemplated his question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was one hundred years old, now; though it wouldn’t be official until later in the day. Since the Pythia’s final curse and the threat of the extinction of their species, loom dates were accurate down to the second. But regardless, she was all but one hundred years old and she still wasn’t sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was she wanted, let alone what she wanted to know either now <em>or </em>in the future. It seemed both as though she had millennia to work it out, and no time at all. An almost encyclopedic knowledge of Robin Hood 101 was all good and well, but she still didn’t know what the Untempered Schism had wanted her to do with it, and it wasn’t a question that Peri could answer. And so instead, she glanced at the stars in search of a constellation she didn’t recognize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That one,” she declared finally, closing one eye to point at it properly. Peri lifted his head to gaze down the path of her arm, getting more in her lap in the process. “What’s that one called?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The stars, or the constellation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust you to know too much,” Roda chuckled. Peri snorted and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can never know too much.” He paused. “The constellation beside Glion Gallifreya?” Roda tilted her head to one side and then made a vague affirmative noise. “That’s Castor and Polydeuces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda hesitated. “Not a Gallifreyan name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most scholars prefer the Sol-3 name,” replied Peri, as though it was the most obvious statement. “Sometimes they call it Gemini, too. The Twins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So it's in Mutter's Spiral?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Past it." Peri shook his head, and stuck out his tongue. "Pay attention." As Roda pretended to splutter he traced the line of the constellation, settling on the brightest star. “There’s the Messier 35, the Medusa Nebula and the neutron star Geminga...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda was, admittedly, listening to Peri’s voice more than his words. She liked to hear him talk. He was a much more animated teacher than the vast majority of their professors, and seemed to have passion for any topic you could get him started on. Absentmindedly she moved so that their hands </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>touching and closing her eyes with a small smile as the sky moved on above them unaware. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his lengthy explanation of each part of the constellation and where it was or high bright it was or whatever interesting fact he knew about it came to a close, Roda shook the comfortable sleepiness from her head and beamed. Little bits of information had stayed in her head, but especially the Medusa Nebula. They’d talked about that in class recently, in Temporal Technology. There was talk that they would get to visit on a field trip, and she hadn’t been overly interested until Peri had painted a much more beautiful image. There was some sort of ‘cascade’ he said, with a broken moon and some weird temporal anomalies. The clouds of coloured gas, Peri had said, were a part of the mythology of half of the neighbouring planets and she couldn’t help a thrill of excitement that one day, she could be there looking at it too, making her <em>own </em>stories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should visit one day.” She reached out, cats-cradling her fingers into Peri’s and turning so that his back rested against her chest, nuzzling into his shoulder. Now that they weren’t moving, perhaps it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit </span>
  </em>
  <span>cold tonight. “Not just in class. You and me, in my TARDIS.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have a license yet, let alone a TARDIS.” Peri chuckled. “First you have to pass your exams."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know,” Roda sighed, not rising to his gentle bait, “but when I do, the stars won’t know what hit them. I’ll hang my TARDIS in the sky, sit on the edge and watch them glow. Dangle my toes in the cascade...” She paused, her hearts beginning to beat like a jackhammer. “Would you come with me, if I left?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri froze, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave Gallifrey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not… forever,” she replied, nervously. “But don’t you want to go somewhere?” Roda looked down at the top of his head and their entanglement of legs, her voice quietening. “See the universe a little? Do something we don’t learn about in class?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We learn about everything in class, we’re Time Lords.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there’s learning,” she insisted, “and there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Doing is different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed like the reply took forever, and Roda couldn’t help but gnaw at her lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I might.” He put his hand on her leg, writing nonsense words of High Gallifreyan while he spoke. “Not forever. But with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fell into a companionable silence then, punctuated occasionally by a comment about a star that Peri had spotted, or Roda mentioning somewhere on her list of places to visit with him. Cuddled up together the cold stopped being a problem; or perhaps she just no longer noticed it. They were just comfortable in each others’ company as the moons began to slink further into the grass and the suns brought the first hints of orange and dew to the landscape. Beneath them the Citadel twinkled as though Gallifrey was its own pocket universe, and for a moment Roda felt miles away. Away from stress, from classes, from Rassilon’s expectations, from hiding herself. Up here, the world was just her and Peri. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The peace was not to last. As Roda shifted to get a cramp out of her leg, a few stray curls tickled Peri’s nose, leading to a Rube Goldberg of miniature disasters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, the Arcalian began sneezing in the middle of a word, doubling over to catch his face in one elbow and knocking Roda in the stomach with the other. Surprised after sitting still for so long the young Time Lady jerked in surprise, bumping the back of her head on their handy boulder and - in her haste to get away from the stab of pain from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>side - half-tried to stand before remembering that Peri was sitting between her legs. The end result sent them both tumbling into the grass, disrupting something’s nest as Roda managed to catch herself only for Peri to land on top of her and almost drive the air out of her lungs. She hit the ground again with an </span>
  <em>
    <span>oomph </span>
  </em>
  <span>of surprise as an arc of twin light crept over the horizon, and found herself face to face with an upside down <em>and </em>backwards sunrise heralded by a cacophony of disturbed birds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment she just stared at the suns, forgetting that she should probably be shielding her eyes, unaware of where her knee had landed or Peri’s hearts beating in tandem with hers. And then - as the suns peeked over the Citadel at last, fracturing into a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges and yellows that warmed the planet - she forgot all about what she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>planned </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do at that exact moment as Peri dipped his head and pressed his lips against hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time stopped, she was sure, in that demi-second between wonder and bliss. She was happy to be trapped there forever. Peri’s thumb brushed her shoulder and Roda found herself straining to meet his kiss with one of her own. They were both clumsy, and the kiss was all teeth and tongue and mess as Peri rolled onto his side and took Roda with him. She let one hand slide up his back, making an utter disaster of his already stained dark green robes and briefly came up for air before desire drove her to seek him once again. Her face was flushed, she was sure of it, and there was grass in her hair but she held his against hers and couldn’t dream of letting go. Suns illuminating them the two Time Lords continued trying to get closer to one another until finally they drew apart in a monkey’s fist of arms and legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda stared at Peri, a giddy look on her face, feeling as though she was drunk. His eyes held hers and she knew that she wanted to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>again and again and she didn’t give a damn if she missed every single exam she would ever have. Peri reached out, plucking a stick from somewhere in her hair and then rested his forehead against hers with an electric hum of calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...was that your first kiss?” whispered Roda, terrified to ruin the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri’s reply was equally small, and a little out of breath. “Was it yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda groped blindly for one of his hands, still quiet. “It was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was.” Peri gripped her hand back. “You don’t mind-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Roda blushed. “Why would I-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I didn’t ask if-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wanted to do that for-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and I hope it was okay!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They talked over each other and then laughed, stealing a quick kiss between breaths and watching the sky turn from dark red to orange. Roda held Peri’s head near hers with his curls tangled in her fingers, and Peri’s arms wrapped around the small of her back in turn as she moved so that she leaned over him with the sunrise in the background. And then just as undignified as before they explored unknown territories far more thrilling than the Medusa Nebula or any faraway constellations until after years within a moment, Peri sank into the grass and gave Roda a lidded, happy look that melted away her insides. She braced her arms to look down at him, about to ask another question when he suddenly looked about to sneeze again and landed on a yawn. Disappointment already at war with fondness, Roda rocked back onto her heels and offered him her hand to pull him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...nice happy birthday to me,” she joked, suddenly worried that she’d done something wrong, or that it had been an accident or - or a thousand insecurities. Sitting up, Peri pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before drawing back to look her over, and put her hearts at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean you don’t want your actual gift?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first thrown by the question Roda couldn’t help but giggle, punching him in the arm. Peri rubbed his shoulder, narrowing his eyes in mock betrayal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a git, Perigraphaltas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” he stuck out his tongue, red-faced. “But where would you be without me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not lying in the grass!” Roda laughed. Peri choked on his response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You-?!” He struggled to catch his breath, he was laughing so hard. “Rodageitmososa, you don’t need </span>
  <em>
    <span>anybody’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>help to roll around on a nice mountain!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m insulted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come off it,” Peri snorted. “You were talking about putting your bare feet in the Medusa Cascade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a hundred now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do what I like.” Roda kissed him on the nose. “Besides, if it weren’t for me you’d be in bed right now instead of…” She trailed off and waved an arm. “All this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>that…” Peri hummed, smiling. “Still, I’m not sure it was scientific enough for me.” Roda blinked, confused. “I think we should do it a couple more times, just to see if we can replicate the results.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nerd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wild child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the two young Time Lords headed down the mountain together hand in hand, they would both be late for their first class. Roda couldn’t find it in herself to care. She had grass in her hair, dirt on her knees and flushed cheeks, but she didn’t care about that either. All that mattered was that on the dawn of her hundredth birthday, she had watched Gallifrey’s suns rise from the top of Mount Perdition, and she had kissed Perigraphaltas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Finally</em>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"The fact is, the Time Traveller was one of those men who are too clever to be believed: you never felt that you saw all round him; you always suspected some subtle reserve, some ingenuity in ambush, behind his lucid frankness."</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “The Time Machine”, H.G. Wells</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>«Text written like this» is intended to denote, in this story, psychic communication.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Fifty years later…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wiping sweat from her brow and leaving a smudge of oil in its wake, Rodageitmososa reached for a torque wrench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been underneath the bare bones chassis of her TARDIS for more than three hours now, and she was beginning to feel as though she was nowhere closer to getting her modifications done than she had been when she’d started. Above her the machine hummed and glowed a faint, familiar red that Roda had grown to love in the past few weeks, as if telling her to get a move on. She resisted the urge to give the TARDIS’ underbelly a thump for cheek, and stuck her tongue between her teeth as she began loosening the the next set of six identical nuts for the third time in twenty minutes. Struggling to find enough hands to hold what she needed - she had a couple of bolts in a pocket in her apron, and wasn’t above holding things in her mouth when she needed both hands - she was beginning to see why Rassilon had welcomed her help in his workshop.</span>
</p><p>If a Time Lord <em>could</em> regenerate with an extra set of arms, she could understand the appeal of trying to.</p><p>
  <span>The TARDIS' dockyard was not as quiet as the nursery it had spent most of it’s life in, but now that its frame had finished growing Roda had been instructed to move it to somewhere it could be worked on properly. Ordinarily, it would have been maintained by the Gallifreys and Time Lords who worked at the yard, but Roda had taken pains to maintain the grades needed to prove she could form a symbiotic bond with and properly perform the necessary upkeep to be trusted to do the work herself. It was an extracurricular you had to <em>earn</em>, and she had passed that one exam with flying colours. Given that the TARDIS had been grown from her father’s, she had wanted to be with it every step of the way; even </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> Professor Morachardorsor and Rassilon both monitored her work. Roda considered it a point of pride that neither had needed to point out many necessary connections. Neither, of course, would agree with what she was doing right now, but she also intended to hide the evidence when she was done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not - all things considered - that <em>she</em> thought she was doing anything wrong in the first place. It was just that the Type-30 Mark III was more than a little outdated but had been pretty much </span>
  <em>
    <span>designed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be tailor-built to a Time Lord’s specifications. A <em>graduated </em>Time Lord as opposed to a student, of course, but that was beside the point. Nobody would have stopped her from updating it a little if she was just a century or so older, and since she knew she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>the work</span>
  <span> she didn’t see much point in waiting to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(And, apart from anything else, it wasn’t as though </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rassilon </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t spend his spare time doing, uh, Rassilon only knew what with the machinery in his workshop. No doubt his TARDIS was indistinguishable from the way it had begun life as well! Even Roda - who had been watching him build things for more than a century - only had the vaguest idea what he was up to at any given moment, and she couldn’t even begin to be certain what he was planning on </span>
  <em>
    <span>using </span>
  </em>
  <span>it all for. Either way, it felt hypocritical for him to complain that she wanted to do something clever considering he tinkered himself, and was always nagging on at her about her grades or her curfew or <em>not </em>pushing herself or whatever thing she had done wrong </span>
  <span>this </span>
  <span>time.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The panel she had been removing slipped down with a metallic clunk, and Roda eased it gently to the floor as she gave the TARDIS’ belly a gentle rub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy… should be the last thing I have to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>«Liar,» </em>said the TARDIS, in the back of her mind, and Roda chuckled quietly. Bonding with a TARDIS was easier than communicating with another Time Lord. Perhaps because she had been talking to the coral long before it could talk back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>«Well, I’ll try to make it the last thing,»</em> she replied, sticking the wrench between her teeth and sitting upright so that her head was surrounded by the hanging vines of cables and wires still exposed by the lack of a chameleon circuit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All she wanted to do, right now, was install the mechanism necessary to program in a Stattenheim remote control. The problem was that while she had been reading about where they were installed on <em>later</em> Type-X TARDISes she wasn't sure how to integrate the module into an older model that hadn't technically been designed to house one. She had spent the whole afternoon taking panels off the underside of the TARDIS under the pretense of 'a routine check-up' to try and find the best place to install the transmitter she had been able to lift from the scrap of the older Academy students. (The remote itself would be a harder thing to get hold of.) But being Rassilon's ward had its benefits and if Robin Hood had taught her anything, it was that if she didn't take a risk every now and again, she wouldn't get anywhere at all.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the sort of addition that was usually reserved for military or diplomatic TARDISes, but as soon as Roda had heard of them, she knew having one would come in handy, if only she could get it to work. So many of the stories of Robin Hood warned that a perfect plan could go wrong in a manner of seconds, and if Roda wanted to be able to summon her TARDIS to where she was without having to mess around with a sonic device every time she wanted to pull the trick off, then a SRC was her best bet. With it, she could hide her TARDIS even from herself - she had heard horror stories of other temporal agencies doing whatever they could to get their hands on Time Lord technology - until she was out of danger.  It was such a small piece of equipment, too, but it needed to be able to be fed through the console and hooked up to the gyroscopic stabilizers <em>and</em> the relativity differentatior and try as she might, she could not find a way to reach them both without hacking up her TARDIS like a barbarian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even the thought of it sent a shiver down her spine that - Roda suspected - was not entirely hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to use both arms to pull herself up into the chassis of the TARDIS this time, trusting in the dimensional transcendentalism to keep her from being crushed. Honestly, she had expected this to be a simple installation (especially compared to a lot of the things she'd fiddled with in the past!) and she was conscious that there wasn't much time she had left to spend in the dockyard. Peri was expecting her at his dormitory in a little over an hour and she didn't much like to stand him up unless she really <em>had</em> to. Getting down to the tedious work of seeing if all of the necessary cables would connect - a bundle of them wrapped around her upper arm - she let her mind drift to their plans for the evening and willed herself to hurry up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri, surprising nobody at all, had been chosen for fast-tracking through the Academy, and was to receive extra education in science, medicine and biology. It was fairly common for high Arcalian families to go straight from graduation into the field of xenobiology, and Peri would no doubt have a job lined up for him by the time they were two hundred and fifty, if not sooner. But with the privilege came more responsibilities, what seemed like a hundred new things he had to study, and far less time for them to spend doing nothing in particular in the enjoyable solitary company of one another. She would have liked him to be about while she was working -  if only for someone with a <em>mouth </em>to talk to - but he couldn’t even find the time for </span>
  <span>that </span>
  <span>anymore. It would have left a bitter taste in her mouth, if it wasn’t that she wanted the best for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she missed him. There was no chance she was flaking on tonight, not if the Academy might be the last time their paths would ever really cross.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head, Roda did her best to focus on the task. It was difficult moving inside the TARDIS, but not impossible. The TARDIS itself had some choice things to say about the indignity of someone seeing it when it was still 'naked' but Roda soothed it as best she could with the touch of one palm. She wasn't a proper pilot, not yet, but even already it felt as though this TARDIS - <em>her</em> TARDIS - was one of her closest friends. Somebody who would one day know her better than anybody else in the universe ever could. With that in mind, she did her best not to do anything insulting while she worked. In this particular section, at least, she could see potential. It was a little bit more open than the others and more central, and with luck it wouldn't be hard to reach the underside of the console from where she was. (How a TARDIS could have an infinite number of layouts at any given time and still need to be so precisely wired, even <em>she </em>wasn't sure.) The module she was installing was tucked into her breast pocket, and she patted it once to make sure it was there before moving deeper in with her eyes on the prize. One thing Professor Morachardorsor had told her to be mindful of - at her 'young' age - was not getting herself lost. The dimensional physics could trip up a fully grown Time Lady who <em>did</em> have experience - which she was not - and so Roda tended to work with one foot anchored to the world outside. All the better to find her route back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S'okay..." she mumbled around the wrench, half to the TARDIS and half to herself. "It's just going to feel like getting a shot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, so she hoped, at least. The lights of the TARDIS interior dimmed reproachfully, and with a sigh Roda turned on the lamp strapped to her forehead. She liked TARDISes, she had learned in the last months. They were cheeky, but generally welcoming, and no two had the same personality. (She liked this one especially, even though she helped out around the whole dockyard when she wasn't busy.) She could see herself working with them, were she not planning on travelling or helping or trying to be a hero. It was a respectable job, one that Rassilon would probably approve of more than what she was going to do when she was free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of her mentor sent a spike of irritation through her as she uncoiled cables and began seeing if they reached up over her head where it looked like they might possibly fit. Something zapped her fingertips in the process and she swore, almost dropping the wrench in her haste to put them in her mouth. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>A clumsy mistake, Rodageitmososa,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he would say. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You are capable of better.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> But was she really?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was what she did not good enough for anybody? Rassilon expected - no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>demanded </span>
  </em>
  <span>perfection and perfection, thought Roda, was boring. If she could be everything he wanted her to be, get that Skaro-damned Triple Alpha grade and fulfil his ever cryptic ‘plans’ for her, then would it be enough? Or would he still assume that she could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Would he somehow invent <em>new </em>grades that he expected her to achieve? When she had first met him, living in his home had seemed like a gift many Time Lords would wage war over (not to mention a chance to rebuild her life) and it wasn’t that she was ungrateful for the position it had given her growing up… even Robin Hood had been Robin of Locksley, once upon a time. It had opened doors that other Time Lords didn't have, and gotten her out of problems that might have gotten her classmates in deeper water. But she was changing with every passing decade, and Rassilon couldn’t see that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda couldn't help but grin, spotting what she had been looking for. There, dangling down right in front of her were a couple of tri-coloured wires with the right kind of connectors for what she needed. With a webbing and some welding - which she could do easily enough another day - the module would stay put in transit if she could just connect it right... <em>there!</em> She stretched as far as she could, standing on tiptoes until she could wrap slim fingers around the cables and pull them down to her height. A quick scan with her sonic, and she knew for certain that she'd finally found the right place. It took her a few minutes - and judicious use of her free foot - to get it all hooked up, but once she did the TARDIS gave a small, psychic hum of approval and Roda beamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>«Told you,» </em>she smirked, double and triple checking the connectors until she was sure they wouldn't just come undone the second she turned her back. <em>«Just a little prick in the-»</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something tugged on the rope around her foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda almost lost her precarious footing, spinning around to see the rope - more taut than it had been before - jerking her ankle back the way she had came. Struggling to stay balanced she cursed under her breath, wondering who it was. Had time gotten away from her and Peri had come looking to see where she was? Or was it her Professor - or worse, Rassilon - wondering what she was up to? Perhaps just an engineer who had noticed she was somewhere that she strictly speaking shouldn't be? Preparing three different excuses just in case she ducked and weaved back out the way she had come, ignoring the occasional tug on the rope, hardly noticing that the TARDIS had begun to give off an entirely different sort of interested energy. It almost seemed to purr beneath her hands as she inched back towards the removed panel, dropping down like a pig-bear from a tree and spinning to face whoever was at the end of the rope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The torque wrench hit the ground with a clatter as she narrowed her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The robed stranger from all those years ago at the Academy - who had claimed to know her and given her her first book on Robin Hood - put a hand to his hearts. He opened his mouth - no doubt to say something smarmy again - when Roda lurched out from under her TARDIS, grabbed the closest tool from the table and pointed it straight at him where she was sure it would hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked unimpressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the Skaro do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously,” he held up his hands, surprised enough to drop his hood once more. His hair was shorter this time, but it was the only thing about him that looked at all neater. “I didn’t remember you being this mouthy!” He looked at her make-shift weapon and then tipped his head to one side, eyes sparkling with a laugh. “Anyway, what are you planning on doing with gravitational pliers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I could hit you with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger looked her up and down as if to say 'slip like you?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda pouted. “Just answer the question!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes the stranger dropped his hands but took a step back; as if to put her at ease more than anything else. Roda didn’t dare look away, but wished she had grabbed something either sharper, or heavier. Gravitational pliers were about as useless as you could get as far as weapons went. Still, she looked over the hilt of the blunt object, taking him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Time Lord looked more… tired than the last time they had met. That was the only way that she could describe it. The slight shadow of stubble was almost an all-out beard and there was a nasty bruise forming over the bridge of his nose, which was taped in place. Bags sat abandoned under his eyes, and there were specks of a darker red along the collar of his tunic that she didn’t particularly like the look of. One eyebrow looked... singed. Somehow, he looked simultaneously more dangerous and less like a threat, and she almost lowered the pliers. Almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is everyone else?”</span>
</p><p>She realised for the first time that the dockyard was empty, but for the patter of robies scuttling through the overhead ducts.</p><p>
  <span>“I set off an alarm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon amis</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” said the man, proudly. “Sent the rest of the engineers off to see where the non-existent leak was while you were installing the SRC module.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda froze as two facts settled in at the same time; first, that she was here alone and second, that she had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>caught</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She wasn’t sure which was more important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What SRC module?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one you just - <em>look. </em>I’m not gonna throw you under the bus!” The man laughed again, completely at ease where she was unsure. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m worried because you’re - you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>stalking </span>
  </em>
  <span>me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, the stranger rolled his eyes. “Oh c’mon, it must’ve been more than a hundred years since the last time we spoke. More, for me.” Roda opened her mouth to clarify - did he really just say he’d crossed Gallifrey’s timeline, or had she misunderstood him? - but he kept on talking. “S’hardly a blip on the radar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’m supposed to believe you just keep turning up when I’m on my own by accident?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>that,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he replied, shamelessly. “But it’s not stalking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pointed a finger at her. “Look - keep that paranoid streak. It’ll come in handy. But right now I’m just here to stop you blowing up your ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Roda could stop him the man stepped past and around her, lifting the wrench up from off the floor and then turning towards the tool table. Roda started to yell at him, until he swept his arm across the surface, knocking everything that he apparently didn’t need flying to the ground. She blinked, flabbergasted - she was going to have to clean that all up before she could go </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>! - as he began pulling the table up against the side of the TARDIS. Roda expected it to put up its rudimentary shields as he approached, climbing on top of the table to reach the opening to the console. Instead, it only purred again. If anything, it purred louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muddy boots making a complete mess of the counter, the stranger snapped his fingers for Roda’s attention and pointed at her apron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Toss me a couple bolts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bolts. Long spiral-y things, made of metal. Good with nuts. Bad for your teeth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too confused to do anything but comply, Roda wordlessly handed him the nuts and bolts left in her apron, watching as he pulled something out of his robes. She couldn’t get a good look at it, but it looked to be long and pronged, and as she craned her neck she could smell the artron energy it was giving off already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a Stattenheim remote control?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger tossed it down to her, and Roda scrambled to grab it out of the air. Then he took out a second little piece of tech, this one circular with a small socket in the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is the other half of the module.” At Roda’s clueless expression, he added: “That you need to install on the console unless you want to blow up the first time you use the SRC?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” </span>
  <span>Roda faltered, twirling the remote between her fingers and looking at her feet. She hadn’t known there were </span>
  <em>
    <span>two </span>
  </em>
  <span>pieces of the module; only the one she’d found in the scrap. Suddenly, the fact that something that valuable had been thrown out made a lot more sense. If someone like her had tried to be clever and only installed half of the equipment… she paled, and without even looking at her the Time Lord laughed. The sound echoed from within the incomplete console room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The word you’re looking for is ‘thank you’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still confused and still a little unnerved, Roda frowned. She looked at the remote in her hand. “Why are you doing this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’d rather you not blow this girl up before she gets to see the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been watching me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause. “What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hear?” Roda was silent. “Mm. I thought so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the next ten minutes, it was almost like the early days of living in Rassilon’s quarters. Roda passed the stranger what he asked for, kept an eye on the door in case the engineers returned prematurely, and asked what she was told was far too many questions. The TARDIS seemed happy enough to let the Time Lord tinker about and make adjustments to its console, and although Roda wasn’t so sure about him herself, she did at least trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And the stranger seemed to like her, too, chattering away to the machine in High Gallifreyan and practically flirting with it until Roda almost felt as though she should leave and give them some time alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did answer some of the questions, but he seemed more interested in the TARDIS, and evaded the ones that really mattered. He admitted that he had grown up on Gallifrey, but refused to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>when.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A small slip-up told her he had regenerated at least one - something about appreciating the extra inches - but she had no idea how old he was, what his name was or where he was from. Even the question of how he knew her father was one he refused to answer, saying instead that he missed the Library, and her father’s lullabies. It was when he began to hum one so familiar to Roda that it almost brought her to tears that she let down her guard, and decided that if nothing else, he wasn’t about to kill her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he emerged from the TARDIS, his robes stained and sweat-soaked, and patted the TARDIS with a wistful expression on his face. Roda offered him a hand down from the console, but he shook his head and instead gave it a quick lover's stroke and then slipped over the edge like the height meant nothing to him. Sitting on the edge preparing to follow him, Roda cleared her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really not going to explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, are you."</span>
</p><p>It was no longer a question, and she was beginning to resign herself to the inevitable. <span>The man looked up at her, arms crossed over his chest with a gentle, not unpleasant smirk.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Why make it easy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you gave me the book?” She argued. “To make it <em>easy</em>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. </span>
  <span>“One day you’ll thank me for it. Some days you’ll hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that even mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means you’re welcome.” The stranger winked, as Roda gave an exasperated sigh. “I’d say you’ll understand when you’re older, but I think you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>hit me with the pliers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Roda snorted. “I’d throw the wrench at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Time Lord laughed so hard he had to double over, slapping his thigh and then leaning on the table as he caught his breath. Roda slipped from TARDIS to counter to floor and wondered if perhaps he was mad. At least he was… helpful? He rubbed the bridge of his nose as though laughing had made whatever injury he'd done to it smart again, and shook his head at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you would. Anyway-” A noise from down the corridor caught both their attention. “That’s my cue to get going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He began to walk away, rolling up his sleeve. Roda saw the corded bracelet once again, but this time she spotted something she wouldn’t have recognized before, on the other arm. Her jaw dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” She headed towards him, breaking into a brisk walk as she reached out to grab his robes, and missed. She had a hundred and one questions, and he couldn't just <em>leave</em>. “I didn’t say thank you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
  <span>For the second time in her life, the might-be-a-Time-Agent, unfamiliar-familiar-Time-Lord placed a hand on his vortex manipulator and vanished, without a trace.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- George Washington</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is the result of an absolute rabbit hole of Tardis Wikia research, thumbing through a physical copy of "How To Be a Time Lord" and cross-referencing my original stories. /o\ It's also where I have to start being clever, so hopefully it doesn't go wrong...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Fifty eight years later… </em>
</p><p>“Rodageitmososa, of all the stupid, reckless things that you have done this was perhaps the most irresponsible!”</p><p>***</p><p>She didn’t have to do it. Somewhere, a voice in Roda’s mind tried to tell her that; tried to remind her that she didn’t <em> need </em> to rise to the Scendelesean’s bait. But it was drowned out by the louder voice that had spent two hundred years rising to any bait that began with or included the phrase ‘just like your father’, and where <em> that </em>sort of comment was concerned, she tended to see red.</p><p>It had started out a quiet day at the end of a rather quiet week wherein Roda had somehow <em>not</em> managed to incite the ire of any of her Professors and had even managed the impossible feat of finishing her school work before Peri had. (Something she had been mentioning to her boyfriend for about the past three days, with varying degrees of being graced with a response.) It was a nice day, too. Not too hot and not too cold, with just enough of a breeze not to be clammy either, and as a result most of the older students from all Chapters of the Academy had congregated outside the Citadel to study somewhere other than a classroom and make the most of the weather before a chill set in.</p><p>Roda and Peri had been sitting side by side - Roda detangling Peri’s hair from the neglect of his studying bender of the week and him grilling her on Time Lord biology - and minding their own business in their own spot under a tree. With hindsight, perhaps she should have continued to mind her own business; but the commotion in the field had been catching her eye on and off for hours. In a much-needed break, Roda had dragged Peri along to find out what was going on.</p><p>She had never seen a game of Eighth Man Bound before, but she knew the stories well enough to recognize one. In the middle of the ring of students sat a Patrexean, cross-legged, with her eyes closed. Auburn hair was pulled off her face in a tight, no-nonsense bun and her skin was dark and unblemished. Like most Patrexeans, Roda thought wryly, she clearly hadn’t spent much time outside in the grass <em> before </em> . No, they spent more time working with their hands in the Citadel, creating art and answering questions that Roda felt took part of the adventure away from life. What was the point in going exploring if you had torn the universe into minuscule philosophical pieces from your own front door? What was the thrill in <em>that</em>?</p><p>A small unstoppered vial - empty of its contents - sat in the Patrexean’s lap. A drug or a drink of some kind, she knew from context, something to make the game even riskier. Peri made a disapproving noise, shaking his head.</p><p>“C’mon Roda…” he murmured, his eyes narrowed. “If they’re going to do something stupid, just <em> let </em>them.”</p><p>“I’ve never seen this before…” Roda argued quietly, more intrigued than she cared to admit. She'd heard <em>stories </em>of course, but seeing it happen in-person was completely different. It was difficult not to want to see what it was like, and if the tales were true.</p><p>The ‘initiate’ in the centre of the ring paid them no attention, or perhaps couldn’t. The golden glow around their head was no halo of sunshine, and the air reeked of regenerative energy. The game was more than a little afoot already.</p><p>Roda didn’t recognize the Patrexean as someone she had ever shared a class with, but the mystery of the older student’s identity was easily solved by the chanting from the ring of observers. '<em> Phindrealumon' </em> , it sounded like, repeated over and over again until the word would lose meaning to whoever heard it. ‘Semantic satiation’, she had heard Peri call it before, the last time somebody had reportedly played the game. The rumour had it that the Patrexean had beaten the existing record and looked eight faces down their regenerative cycle, but also that had never come back to class, and that they had even forgotten who they were completely. Roda, though inarguably <em> curious </em>, couldn’t think of a fate worse than that.</p><p>“Don’t be <em> stupid </em>Roda,” Peri grumbled. He rolled his eyes, tugging more insistently on her wrist as he tried to get her to pull away. Roda forced herself to drag her eyes from the spectacle, raising an eyebrow at Peri’s sudden change in mood. “Do you really want to get into trouble if someone catches them at it?”</p><p>She shrugged. “It’s not like <em> I’m </em>going to do it,” Roda pointed out, gesturing vaguely at the ring. “I just want to watch.”</p><p>“Time Lords <em> die </em> if they mess this up, Roda.” The look on Peri’s face crossed from irritation to concern. Hesitation. As though he wasn’t entirely sure whether he believed that she was simply curious or not. "I don't even know if it even <em>works</em>." He put one hand on her cheek, and for a couple of seconds all of time and space failed to exist, and Roda forgot why she was there. Without noticing what she was doing she rested her forehead against his, and with a sigh he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips as she chanting died down behind them. “I thought you wanted to see the universe.”</p><p>“It’s <em> fine </em>Peri,” Roda laughed, putting her palm on top of the back of his hand, thumb stroking the skin lightly. “I’m not stupid.”</p><p>“Then come sit down with me,” he whispered, pulling away after an eternity of intimacy. “Just ignore them.”</p><p>A sudden gasp of shock from the ring behind them interrupted Peri just as he had convinced her to give in, and she turned around despite herself, letting go of his hand. From within the ring of heliotrope and yellow robes she watched the initiate hit the ground, hands and knees only just breaking her fall. Roda shouldered her way through the ring of observers, driven by some instinct that she didn’t know she had to make sure that the Patrexean - Phindrealumon? - was alright. With one of her friends hands on the small of her back, she was kneeling in the circle with an ashen expression, the remains of the broken vial that was underneath one hand obviously completely ignored.</p><p>As though her movements were not her own, Phindrealumon slowly sat down on the grass, while her friend continued to fuss over her, mumbling words that Roda couldn’t hear. It seemed to take her a couple of minutes to realise that her hand was bleeding, and another minute longer to lift it from the ground and begin to pick the pieces of glass out of her palm. Roda stepped forward to help, before Peri grabbed her robes at the elbow and shook his head insistently, while the crowd began to settle into small groups of people muttering amongst themselves.</p><p>“Hardly got to her second…”</p><p>“...bet <em> I </em>could do better-”</p><p>“-least she’s alive.”</p><p>“See?” hissed Peri; not unconcerned, but clearly unnerved. “If we stick around, we’ll just get-”</p><p>“<em> Typical </em>Arcalian. Too afraid of getting into trouble to take a little risk.”</p><p>Roda scowled, snapping her sleeve out of Peri’s grip and turning to give the newcomer to the game a glare that she was sure would have put even Rassilon on the defensive. She knew that voice <em> anywhere </em>, not to mention the worm attached to it. In fact, the figure in front of them was the epitome of a bully and a terrible example of Time Lord kind. A worm would have been more pleasant to talk with.</p><p>“What in Omega’s name do <em> you </em>want, Selesion?”</p><p>The dark-haired, slimy Scendelesean’s lips curled into a sneer that Roda longed to punch off his smug face one of these days. (Again, technically. Although last time they had gotten into a fight, Roda had been the one to walk away with a black eye and Selesion had simply gone sobbing to Professor Borusa about the robes he had torn when Roda had pushed him to the ground. It had been embarrassing, and Roda had gone out of her way to even be in the same corridor as him any longer than she had to ever since. Luckily, she had succeeded, up until now.)</p><p>Ignoring her, he reached out a spindly finger to prod Peri in the gut, pulling an unimpressed face. Roda moved to bat his hand out of the way, but the broad-shouldered bully jerked it out of her reach just in time to avoid getting thumped.</p><p>“Then again…” Selesion winced, mock-apologetically. “I doubt you’d even <em> see </em>your next regenerations throw all of that time tot fat.”</p><p>Roda clenched her fists so tightly that her arms began to shake. “Leave him alone, Selesion.”</p><p>Wishing she had taken Peri’s advice when he’d tried to get them to leave the first time, Roda forced herself to uncurl one hand and snatch Peri’s. Out of the corner of his eye Peri gave her a grateful glance, although Roda knew that the attack on his weight wouldn’t have gotten to him the same way it would her. Peri didn’t let things like that bother him, as though there was an impenetrable bubble around him that only let in what <em> he </em>wanted to be affected by. She wished, sometimes, that she could be as calm as he was, but it wasn’t in her. Meditation was a useless endeavour, and the second she let her temper get the better of her, her mental defences fell like a house of playing cards.</p><p>This time, though, she would take his advice. Phindrealumon was obviously going to be fine given time - she hadn’t gone deep enough to do herself much harm - and Selesion wasn’t worth wasting their energy on. But like all bullies, he wasn’t ready to take ‘no’ for an answer.</p><p>“Or what?” The Scendelesean smirked. “You’ll set your daddy on us? Oh, <em> wait… </em>”</p><p>Throwing the punch felt to Roda like an out of body experience. One moment she had been leading a relieved Peri away and the next her knuckles had connected with Selesion’s nose with a meaty thud. He was by far the bigger Time Lord, but it was obvious that Roda’s punch had caught him by surprise. Selesion staggered back, his hands rushing to his face while Roda shook her hand and grimaced, somewhat off-guard herself. She had moved on instinct, more than anything else; as though he’d stuck a needle in to reset some primal need to defend. </p><p>It was petty, and her fist was throbbing and she was sure she had landed the punch badly. Surely it wasn't supposed to feel like that. She’d never really learned how to fight, only read about it in books, and her pinky finger felt as though it was on fire. But at least the other guy seemed to be in worse shape than she was. Even though guilt lanced at her for lashing out, she couldn’t help but raise her chin in defiance as Selesion wiped blood from his face and checked to see if his nose was broken. It didn’t look it, but then, she was no doctor. A fact Peri reminded her of by clucking like a mother hen and gently taking her hand, checking from her metacarpal to whatever the bones in her fingers were called with a surgeon's precision.</p><p>“I’m fine…” she said quietly, cheeks red with embarrassment. Embarrassment that she had lost her temper, embarrassment that she had hurt herself almost as much as she had the bully. Embarrassment that she had upset Peri. She could feel it like a toothache in the back of her mind, his psychic distress evident. </p><p><em> «It’s fine.» </em> Peri responded psychically, sensing what Roda actually wanted to say. She could tell he was lying.</p><p><em> «It’s not,» </em> Roda grimaced, flexing her hand experimentally. Nothing broken there, either, not so long as it was moving. She caught Peri’s gaze, trying to say without words how she was feeling. That she knew she had messed up - that she was sorry to have upset him, but that she knew she’d fucked up. <em> «You were right, we should have-» </em> </p><p>“I don't know why they gave <em> your </em> kind the symbiote," coughed Selesion, his voice nasally from misshape as he interrupted the moment. Pinching his bloody nose with one hand, he gestured at the wastelands with the other. Roda glared at him, wishing he would just stop talking. Now <em> they </em> were gathering a crowd, as the Patrexean was led away, the game momentarily forgotten. "You should be out <em> there </em>with the other barbarians."</p><p>"...<em>w</em> <em> hat </em>?" she frowned, not catching his meaning.</p><p>"You're not fit to be a Time Lord," Selesion clarified, sniffing painfully. "You're no better than the Shobogans that knived your father when you were just-"</p><p>Roda grabbed him by the collar, hardly caring that Selesion was taller than her and broader than her and more likely to get off free of charge than her. She had to stand on tiptoes to put her face in Selesion's, and was vaguely aware that if he wanted to he could probably knock her to the ground with just a back-handed swipe, but she realised too late that she had played right into what he wanted. Had stopped retreating.</p><p>He had come investigating the game of Eighth Man Bound knowing that he would be able to get <em> someone </em> riled up. Presumably, he just hadn't expected that someone to be her. But from the look on his face, it was all six Feast Days and Heartsbeat Day come at once. Even <em> she </em>had enough common sense to know that getting into trouble was eventually going to get her into a position she couldn’t get out of. Selesion - whose father was on the Council, and had his thumb in everyone's honey pots - had led her right into it.</p><p>“Go on then,” hissed Selesion, smiling. Roda half heard Peri trying to get her to let go of the bully, back off while she had a chance to explain herself to her guardian, but she ignored him. “Prove it. Prove you’re no better than them. Prove you’re not wasting the Lord President’s time being here.” Selesion leaned in closer, whispering something in her ear so that only <em> she </em>could hear it. “Prove you’re not better off dead just like your father.”</p><p>The closest Patrexean jumped as Roda dropped Selesion’s robes like they were made of fire and turned to face him. He held up a hand, either not sure if he was about to be shouted at next, or about to apologise for rubbernecking. Roda lowered her own and forced herself to grin through bared teeth; a terrible, utterly stupid idea had just come to mind that would wipe that smirk right off Selesion’s face.</p><p>“I need an Inquiry.” The word for the witnesses to the game they’d just been playing. “Do you have any of whatever <em> she </em>took left?”</p><p>She felt Peri’s mind flash with incredulous anger, and sent a wave of apology.</p><p>“I…” The Patrexean blinked, looked at his companions and then nodded. <em> Trust a Patrexean, </em> thought Roda grimly, <em> to do something as reckless as I’m about to do just for the aesthetic and to come prepared. </em>“Yeah. We brought three vials, but after Phindrea I don’t think we should-”</p><p>Roda held out her hand. “Make no sound,” she stated, quoting the nursery rhyme that accompanied the game.</p><p>Wordlessly, someone in the crowd handed Roda a vial, and she downed its viscous contents before Peri could stop her and sat down on the grass. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she tried to get comfortable and to ignore the feeling that this was only going to end in tears. A circle began to form around her and she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths in and out.</p><p><em> «Roda,» </em> Peri groaned, at the back of her mind. She tried - ineffectively - to put up a wall between them. <em> «You have </em> nothing <em> to prove, please don’t-» </em></p><p><em> «If you don’t want to watch,» </em> she responded, as calmly as she could manage, <em> «then don’t.» </em>  </p><p>A silence opened between them like a chasm; not uncrossable, but the supports of the bridge had seen better days. Her dismissal - thinking only of her own anger and her own pride - made Peri pause. Roda felt him withdraw, shrouding his thoughts from her as he did so, and regret clamped down on her lice a vice. But she could apologise later. Mess up - split her focus now - and all she’d do would prove to Selesion that he was right.</p><p>Somehow.</p><p>Someone asked Peri her name, and as her focus returned to her breathing she heard him snap at <em> them </em>next, hoping that they would back down from playing the game with someone unprepared. Without all the participants the game would go nowhere. Then she heard one more pair of feet join the circle even as Peri growled in frustration and turned away. It was Selesion who began the chant.</p><p>“Rodageitmososa.”</p><p>The rest of the inquiry picked it up; tentative at first, until curiousity got the better of them. Roda focused only on the voices, listening to almost-strangers say her name over and over and over until it began to warp around the edges.</p><p>Rodageitmososa became Geitmososaroda and then vague syllables and then an endless stream of High Gallifreyan noises that no longer seemed to form a word. She tried to hold onto the meaning, wracking her brain for what was being said to her, lowering her baseline of psychic barriers the way that they had been taught to seek someone out in their classes at the Academy. Tendrils of thought brushed over strangers and then Selesion and then the swift-retreating signature of Peri, and a spike of sorrow made her lose track of the beat of the word that was being said around her.</p><p>“Reda… Redga…” she murmured under her breath, frowning as she tried to hold on, to find something to steady herself.</p><p>But it seemed further away than before. The crowd continued to speak nonsense as Roda felt her extremities begin to tingle. At first it felt like she’d been sitting on her leg for too long, but then the sensation began to grow painful. Still the circle spoke; still she failed to understand the words.</p><p>“Ro…?”</p><p>She shook her head, opening her eyes as the pain shot up her arms and legs, gripping her hearts in a vice iron fist. The world swirled around her, the drug taking hold. The grass had replaced the sky, and nothing sounded right, and all she could focus on was what was inside her and the insistent <em> whorp </em>of the vortex. So similar to the Untempered Schism, as her vision turned Lincoln green and she felt her back hit the ground. Probably the ground, anyway.</p><p>“Who am I…?” she murmured as though drunk, holding onto the floor as though worried it would let her go. Dizziness hit her in a new wave of pain, and in that second she remembered what she was doing. “Eighth man bound, make no sound..." she whispered; repeating the poem as regenerative energy overtook her, found two heartbeats, and faltered in confusion. <em>No danger. </em>"The shroud covers... covers all..."</p><p>For a second, a stupid lesson from the Academy slammed into her mind, something about the different ways in which a Time Lord could regenerate. This one was certainly a punishment, and she wondered for the first time if she had made a mistake. If it had gone wrong, if this was <em> it.  </em></p><p><em>«The Long and the Short,»</em> said someone else, from outside of reality it seemed.</p><p>A lower voice. Feeling as though she was in a state of flux, a rubber band bouncing back and forth between herself and this new stranger, the one-who-had-a-name-once grit her teeth and tried to remember what she was doing, what she was meant to be <em> proving </em>. The golden glow continued to ebb around her on the edge of a regeneration, and she tried to focus on the unfamiliar face floating in front of her. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To see the future? Her future?</p><p>It was smaller, the hair straw blond, with a nose that seemed too big for the face that her mind insisted was the right one. There were braids, and darts of red that could have been ribbons or leather or... feathers? The only thing familiar was green clothes - old and worn - like something she had once seen in a book.</p><p>
  <em> «...and the Old and the Loud.» </em>
</p><p>A diamond of metal entered her vision as the stranger narrowed her eyes at her, and she closed her eyes and flinched as cold steel came swirling at her face and the image and voice changed again.</p><p>Darker skin, older eyes, blue… stripes? Markings? Bisecting a face enveloped in red curls that criss-crossed over the shoulder in need of a cut. A… braid? Not dressed like a Time Lord or… or… who was she? She was… she was Ro… jay? No. <em> The </em> Roda? No, that wasn’t right either, that wasn’t - wasn’t her name. Not anymore. Not <em>yet</em>? Frustrated, dizzy, she held onto grass until it tore up in her hands, back arching in agony as another voice cut in. Number four, face number four, identity number -</p><p>
  <em> «And the Young and the-» </em>
</p><p>There was a flash of pink, of brown, of white, the colours cycling. Then, a  <em> choking </em> pain as though a rope had fallen around her throat and somebody had <em> pulled. </em>The crowing laughter of an unfamiliar male voice. And then rough, known hands grabbed at her shoulders and tore her away from the ground, away from the vision, away from the-</p><p><em>«Dark,»</em> she heard herself saying, and not saying, and saying one day, and saying in the past. Everything fading to <em>dark</em>....</p><p>
  <em>«Rodageitmososa!»</em>
</p><p>As someone shouted a name - was it her name? - the darkness changed, as though she'd flicked through a book and opened it at a page at random. Bright lights on a podium, a stranger half-illuminated, half in shadow. A taped nose, broken fingers, watching a sea of golden shoulder-pieces against a sea of red and then <em> anger </em>. A room - an eternity - of <em>anger, </em>from every angle. Anger that threatened to overwhelm her, to eat her alive, to leave nothing behind but the need to <em>stop </em>it. And then a voice that she had never heard before, whispering and twisting, speaking in her mind but not to <em>her</em>. Whoever she was. Words that meant nothing to her. Words for <em>her, </em>or by her, or <em>near </em>her?</p><p>Was this even her vision...</p><p></p><div class="PD IF">
  <p></p>
  <div class="JL">
    <p></p>
    <div class="Mu SP">
      <p>
        <span class="tL8wMe EMoHub"><em>«And the child will return, but not to home,»</em> it hissed, like static, like a message she wasn't meant to hear, <em>«and the guardian will fall to ruin.</em><em>»</em>   </span>
      </p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div><p>Before she could try and make sense of it the voice was gone as strong hands jabbed insistently at her temples like knives. Invading her mind, clamping down on the here and the now instead of the could-be or the would-be. Like someone sweeping the pieces from the board and defying the game. A spark of pain cut her free of the rope around her throat and the drowning anger. She sat up straight in firm arms, clinging to her own throat and gasping for air as she tried to stand, to get free, to remember where she was, who she was, what she was doing.</p><p>"I don't-"</p><p><em> «What have you done you stupid, </em> foolish <em> child. You will </em> listen, <em> Rodageitmososa,» </em> the voice filled her mind like a de-mat, departiculating the gold and the light and the instability and leaving behind just one fact. One name. Rodageitmososa. Roda. That was her name… wasn’t it? She could feel hard metal against her - yes, <em> her </em> hearts. Rodageitmososa’s hearts. Not a de-mat, but a <em> gauntlet </em> . <em> «For once in your life do as you are </em> told!<em>» </em></p><p>A familiar anger rooted her back in the present, the psychic presence almost as regular as her own. As she struggled to catch her breath - struggled to remind her body of the existence of a respiratory bypass system - she could feel Lord Rassilon’s hands supporting her. One of them was bare flesh against her clavicle, but the hand against her back and her hearts was gloved, and as she looked around the clearing into the panicked eyes of the Academy students and even, now, a handful of Professors, the lengths to which she had just catastrophically messed up began to sink in.</p><p>Heaving in deep lungs of air as sensation returned to her lips, she clung to the President’s arm like a drowning child, equal parts furious and hurt and scared. And then, just as unconsciousness began to sing her relearned name, another more frantic pair of hands settled on her head, down the back of her neck and then around her shoulders as Peri enveloped her in his arms as though the Lord President wasn’t kneeling in front of them, eyes white with rage.</p><p>Had <em>he</em> fetched Rassilon? Was that why he’d left? She could hardly remember, hardly <em> think. </em></p><p>There was no energy left in her. As Roda slumped in Peri’s embrace, exhausted enough to last - it seemed - several regenerations - the last thing she felt was Lord Rassilon’s mind take hold of her own fractured identity and put her to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“But they were fucked up in their turn<br/>By fools in old-style hats and coats,<br/>Who half the time were soppy-stern<br/>And half at one another's throats.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “This Be the Verse”, Philip Larkin</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Rodageitmososa, of all the stupid, reckless things that you have done this was perhaps the most irresponsible!”</p><p>Roda pressed the balls of her hands to her eye sockets, and wished very much that the ground would just swallow her up and be done with it. Her head was pounding, her whole mind felt like it had been torn apart and put back together by three different people, and her mental defences felt absolutely shattered to pieces. She <em> really </em>wasn’t in the mood to add the headache of a fight to the end of the miserable list.</p><p>The room that she had awoken in wasn’t one that she had visited before, but it was unmistakably a Zero Room. There was nothing quite as white and clinical and <em> empty. </em>Machinery should have beeped and whirred, but she couldn’t hear them. On one side of the room was a wheeled cart with a tray full of medical equipment, but it practically blended into the endless nothing of the well-lit walls. She awoke curled up in a ball in the centre of a gurney, clutching her head - it felt like if she let it go, her brain would fall out - and Rassilon hadn’t even given her the courtesy of letting her waking up properly before beginning to berate her.</p><p>She swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling as though they were made of some sort of jelly. As her heels hit one of the gurney legs, the sudden thought that her own legs were too long almost sent her skittering back under the covers before she got control of herself. The cloth slipped to the floor as she let it go, and Roda pushed through the confusion. She forced herself to stretch for the ground, wanting to stand up to meet Rassilon’s anger on her feet, but he firmly pushed her back into a sitting position in a way that brooked no argument. Pressing the forefinger and thumb of his bare hand to her temple he pushed once more into her unshielded mind, and Roda found that she had no energy to even bother <em> trying </em>to stop him.</p><p>And anyway, she was supposed to trust him… wasn’t she? After all, he had just saved her from herself.</p><p>Without pausing to think them through, the words “I had it under control” slipped between her teeth, earning her a frustrated <em> snarl </em>in response.</p><p>“You are lucky,” said Rassilon carefully, that anger somehow held below the surface for the time being, “that Perigraphaltas sought me out before you lost yourself forever.”</p><p>The Lord President pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes shut as he regained his composure. He drew his other hand away, apparently satisfied with whatever he had read from her thoughts. Roda rested her head in her hands and her elbows on her thighs, not willing to admit out loud how nauseous she still felt. <em> Omega’s sake, </em>but she was never doing anything that stupid ever again. In fact, at that exact moment all she wanted to do was stay in bed for the rest of time and never have to face Rassilon or Peri or even Selesion again, let alone the faces she had seen in her future. Faces that were already blurry and inconsistent; the ordeal a complete waste of her time.</p><p>Roda sighed. What had she proven, exactly? That she was quick to anger? That she didn’t die before regenerating? That she would at least make it as far as graduation? All she had <em> really </em>proven was that for all of her claims that she wouldn’t let what people had to say about her hurt her, Selesion had gotten under her skin and twisted the knife. She had nearly killed herself, angered the man whose roof she had lived under since she had become an orphan and worst of all, upset Peri so much that he had left her alone to go and fetch her guardian in case it all went wrong. And thank Rassilon he had.</p><p>But what had she forgotten? There had been something there, a message in the visions that she was sure wasn't her own. It was all slipping away like a forgotten dream. But right now she didn't care; all that mattered was Peri.</p><p>Her voice was quiet and small and she spoke through her fingers, eyes wet with frustration and anxiety alike.</p><p>“Where’s Peri?”</p><p>Rassilon pursed his lips. “Perigraphaltas is in my drawing room,” he said, calmly. “He… insisted upon waiting for you to awake.”</p><p>“Is he okay?”</p><p>“<em> He </em>is unharmed,” Rassilon snapped, eyes darkening. “For unlike my ward, he did not see fit to engage in a ‘game’ which has killed more Time Lords than I believe you can comprehend.”</p><p>“I didn’t <em> plan </em>to-”</p><p>“Precisely!” Rassilon slammed his fist down on the bed beside her, and Roda couldn’t help but jump and flinch away. “You do not <em> plan </em> anything, Rodageitmososa, and if you do not begin you <em> will </em>amount to nothing.”</p><p>Roda’s eyes flashed with anger and, ignoring her alarm and her exhaustion, she threw her hands in the air and glared at Rassilon. “That’s what <em> he </em> said! I wouldn’t have had anything to prove if <em> anyone </em>at all would just trust that I’m not going to fuck everything up!”</p><p>“Language, Roda-”</p><p>“I don’t <em> care </em> what language I use,” she continued, running a hand through her hair so quickly a few strands came away in her fingers, “nobody listens <em> anyway. </em> I could write a Triple Alpha essay in first generation circular High Gallifreyan and read it aloud to the entire Council while standing on my head, and you would <em> still </em>tell me that I am not good enough.”</p><p>“You are <em> my </em> ward,” Rassilon narrowed his eyes. A hundred years ago Roda would have flinched from that gaze but today she met it, <em> daring </em> him to continue. An act which only made him angrier, and cooler. “As I have told you before, it is not simply enough for you to succeed, you must <em> excel </em>.”</p><p>“I’m just one Time Lady!”</p><p>“There is no such thing as <em> just </em>a Time Lord.”</p><p>The two glared at each other for an age, Rassilon’s hand flat on the gurney as he loomed over her and Roda resisting with difficulty the urge to tear away and storm out of the room. They had come, yet again, to a stalemate; it was an argument that had been coming for some time, now. Roda knew that if she tried to talk about it calmly, it would only spiral into an even greater argument, because Rassilon simply did not <em> listen </em>. She had tried to take in his advice over the years - watching him tinker, give speeches, run a society - and for most of her childhood she had looked at him in awe. Even living with him had not diminished her respect for a living hero and a man who had revolutionised the society she lived in and benefited from. Even her attempts to discuss what she didn’t agree with him about (calmly) had historically led to dismissal. Empty statements like ‘you are young’ or ‘you will understand later’ or ‘it is my will and that is final’. And now, she was beginning to see that her guardian was exactly the sort of person that Robin Hood would laugh in the face of.</p><p>So she had shut her mouth, letting bitterness fester as she tried to remind herself that she had plenty to be grateful for, and that without Rassilon she would likely have not been where she was today. Yes, he had annoyed her by harping on about her grades, but his pushing had kept her from dropping out of the Academy. As he was so keen to remind her, he put not only a roof over her head but a comfortable and secure one that came with more autonomy than her fellows living in the Academy dormitories. She knew she had a privilege of position that few of her peers had, and she knew that at times she didn’t necessarily show that she was grateful for it, but it still hurt that Rassilon seemed to look at her, sometimes, and see an opportunity and not a person. The further apart they had drifted the more she had begun to question why - having not taken her in immediately after her father had died but when someone had finally deigned to mention her to him - he even wanted her about at all. What <em> were </em> his so-called lofty <em> plans </em>? And how was she supposed to reach those heights if he didn’t tell her the ceiling?</p><p>As tiredness from the game of Eighth Man Bound hit her once again Roda slumped into the bed, breaking eye contact first and feeling as though she was <em> always </em>the one giving ground in these ‘talks’. Instead, she tried to remind herself that she wouldn’t be on Gallifrey forever. Little flashes of memory flitted about her brain, fading with each passing second. Two faces, and hints at a fourth. First a blond, then a redhead. And the diamond of steel that had come towards her face…. she recognized it, now, as the head of an arrow. A very rudimentary one, but the idea that archery was in her future gave her the courage to keep going. </p><p>Nevertheless, she would prevail.</p><p>“You’re not my father,” she said, finally. Resignedly. There was still a bite to her words, but she was so <em> tired </em> . “What I do with my life should be <em> my </em>decision.”</p><p>“When what you choose to do endangers your life,” argued Rassilon, also quiet, “then it becomes the responsibility of the head of your House.” The words ‘or your Chapter’ went unspoken; it was a discussion they’d had many a time before, too. “While you live under my roof, you will abide by my law.”</p><p>The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them, muttered under her breath as she glared at her knees.</p><p>“The whole <em> planet </em>is under your roof…”</p><p>“Then you will abide by my law on <em> all </em> of Gallifrey,” replied Rassilon sternly, taking her chin in one hand and turning her to look at him again. His grip was so tight it almost bruised. Roda raised both eyebrows, and even <em> that </em>felt like too much effort. “Just as every other Time Lord before you has been content to do.”</p><p>“And what if I don’t <em> want </em>to anymore?”</p><p>Once spoken, the words could not be taken back. Something flashed behind Rassilon’s eyes that she had never seen before. Frustration, but also… pain? Sadness? He was impossible to read. Her expression softened as she tried to understand, to know why <em> those </em>exact words had elicited such a response, but with a snort of disdain he let go of her face and straightened up, making a show of busying himself rearranging his robes.</p><p>As he did, Roda noticed that he looked almost as rough as she felt. His gauntlet was sitting on a shelf behind him, and his staff was propped up against a trolley, both of them haphazardly abandoned. His robes were in disarray, and his hair - usually so well-tamed - was coming undone from the ponytail that he wore it in. With his back to her, he stroked one hand over his face with a sigh, and Roda realised with a start that he was nervous. Or had been. Had he truly been <em> worried </em>for her?</p><p>“You are many things, Rodageitmososa,” he said, still looking away. “But I did not think you were ungrateful.”</p><p>For the first time, Roda hesitated before responding, choosing her words carefully.</p><p>“Is that what you think this is?” She gripped the edge of the gurney, casting her eyes away. “That - that I’m not <em> grateful </em>enough for everything you’ve done?”</p><p>Rassilon shrugged, and that in itself was a strange enough gesture. “What would you have me think? That you are simply willful, disobedient and an endangerment to yourself because you do not care?”</p><p>“You have no <em> idea </em>how much I care.”</p><p>“I do.” Rassilon snorted. “I understand more than you think. But to let your anger and your impulses control you is the road to ruin.” He made a fist softly and then uncurled it, starting at his bare hand. “I have tried to drill into you for centuries now that you cannot afford to make mistakes.”</p><p>“It was just <em> one </em>mistake!” protested Roda. It was, again, the wrong thing to say.</p><p>“One mistake upon a <em> tower </em>of foolishness,” he retaliated, turning on his heel to face her. Any vulnerability he might briefly have shown was gone, replaced by the face of the President. Roda felt herself slump, steeling for more bickering. “You are not stupid-”</p><p>“That’s not what you said ten minutes ago.”</p><p>“<em> But </em>,” he stressed - warning her not to interrupt again, “you repay my generosity with rebellion. Is it so ineffable to believe that my plans for you might have your best interests at mind?”</p><p>Roda chewed her lip. “I didn’t do it for <em> myself </em> .” The slight change in subject piqued Rassilon’s attention and he paused, beckoning with one hand for her to continue. “The game. Or, well…” she pulled a face. “Maybe I <em> did </em> , but I would have walked away if Selesion had not insulted Peri just <em> because. </em>”</p><p>Rassilon blinked, momentarily dumbfounded. “You did it to prove a <em> point </em>?”</p><p>Unsure what the ‘right’ answer was, Roda settled on nodding.</p><p>“He’s the one that blacked my eye, forever ago.” Rassilon’s mouth tightened. “He <em> always </em> starts fights - not just with me, with <em> everyone </em> - because his father is in the Council and he thinks that he can get away with it. And he does.” Her hands balled into fists, the game forgotten. “How is that fair? How is that <em> just </em> ? How can I play the good little ward and let you - you - you elevate me above my station just because I got <em> lucky </em> if that means walking into corruption with my eyes closed? I <em> had </em>to show him I was better than that. Than him.”</p><p>“The Scendeleseon?” Rassilon asked. Roda nodded. “Their influence in the Council is weak. I know whose child he is, and I will speak with him on the matter.” For a moment, Roda’s hearts soared. Was he <em> actually </em> going to do something about the bully? “But in this case,” <em> ah, there it is again </em>, “his behaviour is simply your excuse.”</p><p>“What the <em> Skaro </em>is that supposed to mean?” asked Roda, snidely.</p><p>It crossed her mind, belatedly, that Rassilon had once again changed the subject. Deferred the inevitable and steered them away from criticism of the Council. It seemed to her as though ‘influence’ and ‘strength’ shouldn’t have been a part of politics within a <em> planet </em>; and and - the thought began to take form - perhaps it shouldn't have meant anything in the universe at large, either. Were Time Lords really meant to guide? To monitor time and space like some sort of stellar royalty? Or was teaching Time Tots how important they were just the beginning of turning them into bullies like Selesion?</p><p>Something began to stir in the back of her mind, drowning out the rat-ta-ta-tat of her heartbeats. Is that what the Schism had been trying to tell her? What the game had taught her? Were Time Lords the heroes, or the villains?</p><p>“It means,” continued Rassilon; his connection to her mind severed enough that he couldn’t possibly know her internal crisis, “that you cannot rise to his taunts and expect me to bail you out.”</p><p>“I don’t <em> expect </em> anything,” Roda snapped, “because you don’t <em> tell </em> me anything.” Her thoughts were a vortex of problems and anxiety and confusion, and she just wanted to either be left alone or be handed the answers. “I didn’t <em> ask </em> for your help, but I don’t know what you <em> want </em>of me.”</p><p>“Evolution does not happen overnight. Gallifrey was not built in a day, but a reputation can be formed in an instance and you do not yet understand that. Until you do, there is no sense in sharing my goals with somebody who might not reach the position to be a part of them.” Roda felt as though she had been slapped across the face. <em> Not good enough… </em>“If you can control your temper, Rodageitmososa,” Rassilon said warningly, “then you will show me that you can be trusted with the responsibilities of maintaining a civilization. Your father understood his role.”</p><p>“He <em> died </em>.”</p><p>“An untenable loss of life, but neither here nor there. Your mother, too, understood her responsibilities as a member of the Council. I believed you would inherit your father’s pragmatism and your mother’s passion, but you seem determined instead to make the worst of both gifts.”</p><p>“How can I <em> possibly </em>be like two people who didn’t get to raise me?”</p><p>Roda felt like tearing her hair out. Future this, mistakes that, potential, potential, potential…! If Time Lords were so high and mighty and had it all together, then why did adults always speak in code and cipher and political potentials instead of just giving the next generation a map? Rassilon was using a lot of words but they all felt like meaningless filler. Nothing felt <em> important </em>, or like an answer to a single one of her questions. Was that what he wanted her to become? Another empty shell of a Time Lord, intelligent beyond reason but able to be led down any path he wished? No way.</p><p>“I have given you ample opportunity to hone yourself and-”</p><p>“That isn’t an answer.”</p><p>“I do not have to explain myself to <em> you </em>, child.”</p><p>“Sure. Because <em> I </em> made myself,” she argued. “Not you, not my Professors, and not my parents.”</p><p>“And yet you let the words of a bully control your actions today.”</p><p>“I-” Roda opened her mouth and shut it again, too furious that he was <em> right </em>to form a proper response.</p><p>“And were it not for my reach, those actions would have gotten you expelled from the Academy.” Her gut knotted, as the bitterness of the truth settled in her stomach. Here she was again in the debt of the Lord President; a hole it seemed like she would never dig her way out of. “You can't live in the past and the future at the same time.”</p><p>“That’s what you <em> want </em> me to do, though! Can’t you just tell me what you <em> mean </em>!” Roda begged furiously. With a firm shake of his head, Rassilon stepped away from her, and Roda was left grasping air.</p><p>Perhaps she didn’t <em> want </em> to follow a road that was laid out for her. Perhaps Peri felt the same way, and maybe even Selesion lashed out because of pressure. But if no one would mark it out then how was she supposed to deviate from it? Instead students and citizens and Skaro, even <em> Shobogans </em> were punished for putting one foot out of a line that no one had warned them about. It was no wonder so many people played Eighth Man Bound; nobody <em> else </em>was going to tell them that things would be alright when they were older. Her upbringing had left her no more enlightened by anyone else on Gallifrey, no matter what Rassilon thought.</p><p>“Tell me what you want me to do,” she continued, “Or - or what your <em> plan </em>is. Then maybe I’d-”</p><p>“Prove to me that my expectations are not misplaced,” responded Rassilon, coldly. “<em> Prove </em> that you can rise above your station without resorting to using your fists, and that you can focus your attention on only what is important to the future of Gallifrey. Do that,” he declared, tidying his hair smartly, “and I can promise you that you will not feel the need to prove yourself to anyone ever again.”</p><p>“<em> How </em>?”</p><p>But he had nothing more to say. As Rassilon pulled away and smoothed down his robes, collecting his staff from where it was resting, Roda ignored his earlier command and pushed herself off the edge of the bed. Bare heels hit marble with a slap and she almost lost her balance before grabbing hold of the gurney behind her with both hands. Rassilon paused mid-step - as if, for a second, he was considering saying something more to her - before shaking his head and crossing the Zero Room in brisk, no-nonsense strides. Feeling thoroughly lost for words and somehow, feeling as though some childhood comfort had been ripped from her hearts the second she saw her future, Roda moved as if to follow him. Her face grew damp with frustrated tears as Raz - Rassilon - the Lord President placed his palm flat against a panel on the wall and left the room without a backwards glance.</p><p>Ready to shout and scream and rage, Roda instead felt her knees give out beneath her, and barely managed to fall backwards instead. She landed on her backside, grimacing with pain and let her head rest on her knees, all her energy expended.</p><p>She was never going to figure it out. What he wanted, how she was supposed to make him proud, how she was supposed to do it. Was <em> that </em> why she had seen Sol-3 in the visions and the Untempered Schism alike? Was she simply doomed to never live up to anybody’s expectations; should she just run away, and disappear for good? Not a hero, but simply a phantom in the forest? But if that was the case… had her whole life been just a waste? All these years spent trying to please the only father figure she had suddenly felt hollow and dry in her mouth, as if she was trying to swallow sand. Maybe his faith in her <em> was </em>misplaced. Maybe she should have faded into obscurity the day her father died, another orphan Time Lord to fill up the ranks of responsibility and patriotism. A nobody. A let-down.</p><p>If that was the case, though… why did everything feel <em> wrong </em>?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>End of Act 1.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “Horseradish”, Lemony Snicket</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don't bind with bandages, kids. It's not good for your ribs. Imagine that what Roda is wearing is a cropped binder. Take it from non-binary fandom mum. </p><p>This chapter also borders on nsfw, but it's intentionally non-explicit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Roda was still sitting on the floor when Peri walked in and wrapped his arms around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snapped her head up so fast it almost collided with the gurney, frantically trying to bring her sleeve up to wipe away the tears that had begun to flow as soon as Rassilon left the room. Swallowing hard, struggling to bring her breathing back under control, she rubbed her eyes until they began to ache, blinking at her boyfriend and giving him an utterly ingenuine smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peri…” Roda sniffed, swallowed again, and by some miracle managed to modulate her voice. “I’m sorry, I did something </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you had to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ssh.” Peri rested his chin in the crook of her neck, and if his hold was a little too tight or a little too warm, Roda couldn’t bring herself to push him away. Her arms shaking more than she cared to admit she reached up to hold onto him tight, as though he could anchor her in the here and now, and banish everything that she and Rassilon had spoken about. “It’s okay, Roda. You’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda buried her face in Peri’s hair, breathing in the smell of the grass and of sweat, and wondered how long he had waited outside for permission to enter the room. An hour? Two hours? More? Usually so in tune with time, the loss of consciousness had left her out of sync with herself and it felt as though it would take a good night’s sleep before she was right as rain again. She felt one of his hands rest on the back of her head, stroking her curls soothingly as she cried silently, letting a hundred years of frustration and pain out while hiding her face. If only she could keep a straight face, and stop giving Peri so much to worry about. It felt as though he’d been looking after her for all of his life, and all she had given him in return was a few kisses and some sleepless nights. And yet he was here, now, when it meant the most. When she needed him most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her a long time to stop shaking, and the sobs seemed to rack her body long after she got her breathing under control. She was vaguely aware that Peri was talking to her, but if it was important then he was going to have to repeat it. The only thing she wanted to be rooted in now was his touch and his presence. Her face still wet and her eyes red she pulled away from him - an expression of surprise crossing his features as she did so - and before she could change her mind took his face in her hands and kissed him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Anything but continuing to cry, and continuing to be scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment Peri returned the kiss, hands trailing down her shoulders as they found a place to settle on her hips. Roda pushed herself to her knees, greedily knocking his teeth with hers as she fought to be closer to him and to feel something real, something that she understood. Letting go of his face she snaked one arm around his waist and with the other hand, clutched at his robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roda,” Peri gasped, coming up for air, “are you sure-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda kissed him again; first on the lips and then the side of his mouth, his cheek, his neck. She didn’t want to think anymore. She was done with trying to think today. All she wanted was to be as close as possible to somebody who had stuck around even after she had been an idiot and who didn’t want to give her a lecture. Didn’t want her to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything. Understanding, Peri closed his eyes and gave himself into her needs, returning the affection with just as much vigour. At some point they found their feet, and Roda grimaced as her hip bounced off the edge of the gurney and it threatened to roll away. She grabbed at it with one hand, hopping onto the edge and beckoning Peri forward to stand between her parted legs, taking his face in her hands again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you….”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, Roda,” Peri whispered between kisses. “I’m not going anywhere you idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri laughed into her collar, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roda, you have to do something stupider than </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>to get rid of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without hesitating again, Roda wrapped her legs around Peri’s back and held on as though her life depended on it. Exploring him with her mouth turned into running hands over his shoulders and down the back of his robes, her own bunched up somewhere around her thighs. She felt Peri’s fingertips pressing flowers into her bare thighs and nearly bit his lip with pleased surprise. At the back of her mind was the nagging question ‘what if Rassilon walks in?’ but she no longer had it in her to care. Let him walk in, let him splutter and try to excuse himself, or tell them to break apart. She wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>let </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Peri was hers, and he expected nothing more from her than to be here in his arms, now, skin to skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burying her head in Peri’s neck as she regained her breath again, Roda switched to telepathy; reaching out and finding that bright signature that was Peri. It always glowed like a star, guiding her back when she lost her temper.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«Bedroom.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«What?»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda had to stifle a laugh; even in her head Peri was flushed, and flustered. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«I can’t stand it in here,»</span>
  </em>
  <span> she explained, sending him a faint image of the sterile whiteness of the Zero Room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«Come back to my room.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«But Rassilon-»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of gracing him with a response, Roda pushed Peri back just enough to slide to the ground clumsily, pressing her body up against his in a way that she hoped felt as good for him as it did her and brushing her knee against the tent in his robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raz can go fuck himself,” she whispered. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>about him right now, I care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if it was their first time all over again, Roda and Peri stumbled to her quarters like giddy schoolchildren, each keeping an eye out for Rassilon as they fell down corridors and around corners. Roda all but kicked open the door to her rooms, certain that it would have alerted </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody </span>
  </em>
  <span>and finding that she didn’t care. With luck, it would be mistaken for a tantrum. When the door slammed shut behind her again she turned to pin Peri up against the wood, revelling in his soft gasp of surprise as she held him there and kissed him deeply. Her leg slipped between his again, knee grazing the door as she clumsily reached for the ends of his robes, trying to pull them over his head and pausing only to ask for permission.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«Yes?»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«Yes.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They hardly made it to the bed before Peri returned the favour, and they fell down in a tangle of cloth. Roda couldn’t help but laugh as it caught on her shoulders, briefly obscuring her face as Peri ran his hands under her breasts, over her waist, and dug his thumbs once more into her hips. She hissed with pleasure, lifting her body to meet his attention, to steal it and have </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it. She would fill the hole that the day had left in her with sensations and wanting and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she decided, until she felt more alive than she had ever felt before. Peri made a noise somewhere above her that sounded appreciative and she smiled again, helping to get the robes off until Peri was straddling her and they were both just in their undergarments. They met each other’s gaze then - Roda’s eyes still red, Peri’s full of concern and longing - before launching back into it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The headboard hit the wall as Peri’s balance slipped, and he landed against Roda with a faint </span>
  <em>
    <span>oomph </span>
  </em>
  <span>of surprise that reminded her of why she loved him. Just like all those years ago atop Mount Perdition, when they had shared their first kiss. She caressed his cheek with one hand, guiding his down to the waist of her underwear with a raised eyebrow of ‘well, get on with it’, and then tilted her head back as he ran kisses down her torso. He slid the cloth down, exposing her and Roda’s breath hitched as he hesitated with one hand so close and yet so far from blessed distraction. Usually so agile, she struggled to pull the binding wrap off her chest,, and let it drop to the floor completely disregarded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peri…” Roda whined, pleasure replacing the ache of the day and her hearts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri only chuckled, resting his free hand on the space between her breasts and giving her an appreciative look. Roda tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, lifting her hips to meet his touch by way of an answer. Knowing exactly where and how to touch her from years of experience, Peri turned his tender attention to her body as his fingers danced around every spot but the one that </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>mattered. Roda closed her eyes, purring and swearing alike in her mind, as she gave in to the sensation. Rooting herself in nothing but him and the way that he felt, she could let the rest of the universe slip away. And Perigraphaltas was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>attentive lover. Just as her mind might have begun to wander again, he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>and she felt as though her eyes rolled into the back of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«I want you...» </span>
  </em>
  <span>she murmured, unable to form words anymore as she felt Peri slip a finger inside her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«I don’t want to </span>
  </em>
  <span>think </span>
  <em>
    <span>anymore.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«You only had to ask.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda nuzzled her face into Peri’s sweat-soaked chest, closing her eyes with a faintly sulking noise as he stroked her hair. Around them, the room was in complete disarray; books and sheets alike thrown to the floor, but for the light blanket that one of them had used to cover themselves from the waist down when they had finished and the chill of the evening had begun to set in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Rassilon knew what they had been up to - indeed, that she had even left the Zero Room - then he had wisely decided not to intervene. Which was, Roda felt, just as well. She had absolutely no desire to get dressed, let alone move, for at the very least the rest of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed at Peri’s question, wishing that she could ignore it but aware that she couldn’t avoid talking about her feelings forever. But she wasn’t sure of the answer. For the most part, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to talk about it. She would have been quite content to let the problem fade away, and let the plan for the future proceed the same way it always had. Graduate, get what Rassilon wanted her to do done and over with, and then see the universe. Except now, it seemed as though every step was in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than anything else she wanted to skip straight to the middle, throw out the map, and start with the running away; to take Peri’s hand, hop in a TARDIS and disappear into the stars. If she did then - then she wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to face the unanswerable questions or the difficult truths. She was almost tempted to steal a TARDIS and leave now, but hers was still far from space-worthy, and anything else that they could have taken wouldn’t get them far enough away without being caught. And besides, she could hardly destroy Peri’s life alongside her own. So she would have to be patient, for now.</span>
</p><p><span>“I shouldn’t have to prove myself to </span><em><span>anybody,</span></em><span>”</span> <span>she said finally, speaking into Peri’s clavicle instead of his face. One hand bunched into the sheets behind his head, making a rose of frustration as she fought to stay calm. To hold onto the peace that the last little while alone with Peri had given her. “Not Selesion, not the Academy, and definitely not Rassilon.”</span></p><p>
  <span>A frustrated expression crossed Peri’s face for just a second before his shoulders loosened and he squeezed her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t. Have to, I mean.” He paused, and then tried for humour. “I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>resigned myself long ago to you never managing to keep up with my lectures on quantum-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yelped as Roda slapped him half-heartedly, a smile ghosting onto her features. “Look, just because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>always the smartest in the room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mock-reproachfully, Peri shrugged. “I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” As Roda raised her hand to pretend to thump him again, he kissed the tip of her nose. “But you’re the one who qualified to work with TARDISes while still in the Academy. And don’t even get me </span>
  <em>
    <span>started </span>
  </em>
  <span>on those hikes you drag me on…!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you put down the books every once in a while...” Roda teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Peri snorted, “says the Time Lady who inherited a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Library</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed, hearts slowing down to a peaceful beat. “You know, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>take a book up the hill with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Peri argued, “but you tire me out so much I never get to read them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she prodded him in the chest, sitting up on her arms, “I didn’t hear you complaining about me tiring you out just </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he sniffed, “I didn’t come here to read books anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slipped into silence once again, but for the sound of a ticking clock, a changing of the Chancellery Guard somewhere outside, and the wind rattling the courtyard window. Roda closed her eyes, drinking in the words between the lines of what Peri had said. He had come here for her. Waited, rushed in, and held her in his arms. The care was not lost on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even from the beginning, she and Peri had known that their relationship couldn’t last; not as tender and as innocent as this, anyway. For all of their feelings for one another, Roda had learned to accept years ago that they were set on different paths. They were different breeds of Time Lord. Peri was studious, dedicated, and in his own way patriotic. He understood the ‘Lord’ in their name, and he was somebody that Roda could see achieving something great, one of these days. He was already well on his way to the medical corps, after all, and he could recite textbooks in his sleep. And yet he still cared, and deeply. Even when he had his own problems, he was always there for her with open arms, and his sisters fawned over his every word like there was never a better brother in the whole universe. If Roda had to describe him in just a few words, she would say that Perigraphaltas was a good man. Perhaps too good for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda was almost everything he was not, as Rassilon and the game of Eighth Man Bound had both made very clear, albeit in very different ways. If Peri was a part of Gallifreyan civilisation, then Roda felt as though she was a part of the planet, if nothing else. Outside of the Citadel Gallifrey was wild and free and everything that Roda aspired to me. Independent, ever-changing and in a sense, </span>
  <em>
    <span>feral</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Living with Rassilon for most of her life had given her a healthy respect not only for where their species had come, but also where it had begun. The Dark Ages, the Pythia, the Sisterhood of Karn, the Shobogans, the Vampires, the tales of Zagreus and other nursery rhymes that made even the eldest Time Lord shudder. To forget their roots, and that they had once been no more developed than the likes of Sol-3 or any other planet was, she believed, to forget themselves. And so she could never focus on academia and society in the same way that Peri did. It just didn’t come naturally to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she still cared. She cared to know that people were happy, and that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She cared to hear stories of her hero Robin Hood, robbing from the rich to feed the poor and bringing justice to his land. She cared about the rebels, and yet she could never admit it out loud. And she cared - perhaps most of all, in this moment - about making every single millisecond that Peri was hers </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Screw her broken hearts, and screw her fear. In </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> moment, everything was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stroking her curls once again, Peri interrupted Roda’s thoughts by quietly clearing his throat. His hand was still, nestled in her hair, and Roda forced herself to open a sleepy eye and attempt to pay attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said something, didn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her a second to understand what Peri meant, and then her mind clouded over with frustration. Rassilon would not ruin </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roda…” Peri whispered, soothingly. “You’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible </span>
  </em>
  <span>liar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” she sighed, lifting her body and balancing her weight on one elbow. “He was angry, I was angry, I’m not good enough and the stupid plan is ineffable. There’s nothing to talk about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he upset you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda frowned, surprised despite herself. For all of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>complaints about her guardian, it was rare that Peri was the one to be unhappy with him. The reaction was… disarming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s the Lord fucking President,” she said, her anger dulled by hesitant confusion. “He does what he damn well likes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>upset </span>
  </em>
  <span>you,” Peri persisted, pulling Roda back into his arms, resting his face in her hair. “Properly, this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re kind. You’re nerdy. Omega knows even I haven't read as many weird books as you have.” Peri pressed a kiss to her nose. “You work hard, you’re building a TARDIS! Sure, you’re - y’know, you’re more than a little rough around the edges,” Roda pretended to be offended, “but it’s just that you care too much. And what he said was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda tried to show the correct reaction, but couldn’t help laughing instead. Wriggling, she placed one hand to her hearts, staring at Peri through disbelieving giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop my hearts,” she said, dramatically, reaching out the same hand to cup Peri’s cheek, “but did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>just say that the Great Lord Rassilon was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” muttered Peri, his face colouring. But Roda could already feel her mood improving. (Not, of course, that the sex hadn’t done a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>good job of taking her mind off things.) “Take a compliment, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please,” Roda purred, her hand sliding down Peri’s body as she moved so that she was straddling him, this time. His breath caught in his throat, and letting her fingers graze the hair below his navel, Roda wondered if she could steer the conversation around to round two. “Shower me in as many compliments as you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re incorrigible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve said that one before,” she teased, hand trailing further south.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you - you just…” Peri stopped to catch his breath, making a half-hearted attempt at pushing Roda’s hand away. She stopped - for now - but couldn’t help but pout. “You’re plenty good enough. I’m sure if you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>spoke </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hi-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«Thank you.»</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roda cut her boyfriend off with a quick kiss, squeezing his side with her thighs as she kept her balance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«Really.» </span>
  </em>
  <span>She kissed Peri again, this time feeling him sit up to reciprocate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«I just… don’t want to talk about him right now. About what happened.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt more vulnerable, saying the words in her mind while pressed up against Peri’s body, their bare skin still damp and flushed. But she could feel something caught in her throat, and knew that if she let herself say the words out loud then she would have to hear them again. This way she could be honest, while letting down her barriers to ask permission </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>reprieve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They broke apart with Peri’s hand on the back of Roda’s neck, his lips swollen from her teeth and his mouth slightly parted. Roda studied him as though he was the most beautiful thing in her life right now, and waited with only a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>anxiety for his response.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«Later?»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause, and then she nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«Later.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«If it helps, though,» </span>
  </em>
  <span>continued Peri, determined to have the last word. Roda sent him a vague image of impatience. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«</span>
  </em>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like you.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed again. “If you didn’t then what we’ve just been up to would make </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>sense at all!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«I mean it, though,» </span>
  </em>
  <span>Peri insisted, keeping with the telepathy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about it but I was so… so worried.» </span>
  </em>
  <span>His fingers left little red roses in her waist as he held on, and Roda returned to her ministrations of his body, wanting to get back to where they had left off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«I thought I lost you, that you were going to -»</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>“You don’t get rid of me that easily,”</span> <span>quipped Roda, wriggling to make herself comfortable. Peri gasped with surprise, his grip tightening as his mind washed over hers with a red hot spike of consent. </span><em><span>«Sorry.»</span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«I don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>want </span>
  <em>
    <span>rid of you, Roda. I love you.» </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Time Lady froze, caught off guard by how candid those three simple words were. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«I love everything about you - even the stupid things.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She slapped him playfully across the back of the head, knowing that her face had turned almost as red as her robes and completely unable to stop it. “If you’re trying to make me feel better-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«I am. I </span>
  </em>
  <span>mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>it.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing her breasts against his body, Roda kissed the underside of Peri’s jaw. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«I love you too.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«There. Was that </span>
  </em>
  <span>so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard?»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda responded by raising one eyebrow and shuffling back to sit on Peri’s legs, taking him in her hand with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«You </span>
  </em>
  <span>are.</span>
  <em>
    <span>»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«You - I-!» </span>
  </em>
  <span>Peri moaned, lifting his hips and losing command of his telepathy. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Rodageitmososa, I’m trying to have a moment here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re Time Lords,” Roda shrugged, doing that thing that she knew always drove him crazy, “we have plenty of moments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was trying to be sweet in this one,” responded Peri, his voice strained, “and now you ruined it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>the stupid things.” Roda stilled her hand. “But if you really want me to stop…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his head hit the pillow with a thump Peri grabbed Roda’s busy hand with his own, making it quite clear that he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Sometimes I swear you will be the death of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving into sensation once again, Roda closed her eyes and began to stroke once more. The universe and all of its questions and expectations could wait. Right now, Peri was her universe and he was hers. While she had him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>could wait; even the maelstrom of her own mind.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Comfort is as comfort does<br/>And I've held up all your crowns<br/>And I've wondered since what I’d do now<br/>And that tower is as feared as that glass is clear<br/>For those inside that do look down.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “Stowaway”, PigPen Theatre Co.</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Two things about this chapter. Actually, three. One, again, it is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Two, it got so long I had to split it into two. Oops? And three... bear with me on the canon. I plotted this story out before seeing the season 12 finale, and so I'm going with what we knew about a certain group of people before that because it's all I can do. My personal explanation for this is 'yada yada propoganda', and perhaps I'll be able to bring it around to a canon explanation by a later point in Roda's story. For now, it is what it is.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Ninety two years later… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>After her mistake in the clearing, the years on Gallifrey seemed to pass Roda by in a blur.</p><p>She had a new mantra, a new purpose, and that was to make sure that she never let anybody hurt her again. Not a bully, not Rassilon, and certainly not her own mind. Surprising everybody she knew - herself certainly most of all - that apparently meant throwing herself into her studies like a Time Lady possessed, ensuring that nobody could find even the tiniest stitch undone on which to criticize her.</p><p>Of course, people still tried. The grades weren't perfect, but they were more than passable. Borusa still managed to write her up on perceived slights, and Roda continued to ignore him. Even worse, things at home became more tense; not so much because Rassilon acted on his words on that day in the Zero Room, but because he seemed content never to address them or bring them up again. Roda still spent time in his workshop, but she steadily began to spend <em> less </em> of it there. What time she did allow herself to forget the words that neither of them could take back she spent not just handing him things and being lectured but instead trying to understand what it was she had spent more than two hundred years helping him to create. She asked more questions, and when Rassilon didn’t answer them she simply paid more attention, making suggestions as to how <em> she </em> would do something in attempts to trip him up into explaining exactly how wrong she was and why. It was a tactic that only worked <em>so</em> well when the person you were, essentially, trying to spy on was one of the oldest and supposedly wisest people on the planet, but Rassilon liked the sound of his own voice, and it was easy to goad him into talking about scientific prowess. By the time her own final engineering exams came at the age of two hundred and fifty she had worked out one very important thing:</p><p>Whatever he was building, it had something to do with Amplified Panatropic Computations - and she had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t strictly <em> legal </em> . Or at least, it was <em>definitely </em>not approved by the Council.</p><p>Still, figuring out what made Rassilon just as fallible as anyone else on Gallifrey played second fiddle to parts of her life she cared about a Skaro of a lot more. There were exams to pass in the next fifty years if not with flying colours, at least well enough for people not to nitpick her grades, and managing  that while still getting to spend time with Peri became a balancing act that took up so much of her time that studying Robin Hood briefly fell by the wayside. (She couldn't remember the last time she'd managed to open a book about him. It felt... weird.) True to everyone’s expectations Peri graduated early and with an almost perfect grade, and was recruited immediately into the Acalian division of the Medical Corps. She and Peri made time for one another where they could - as they always had - but those times grew more infrequent as the days went on, and so Roda did her best to avoid contemplating the difficult conversation of the <em>end</em>. She would always love him, she knew <em> that </em>. But he wouldn’t always be hers in the same way, nor her his. So it was best to make the most of it, as usual.</p><p>And oh, the things he could do with his fingers took her mind off ninety percent of her worries.</p><p>It was during what had become an <em> incredibly </em>rare break in the amount of things that she had to do in a given day that what she would later think of as 'the moment' happened. Roda had taken once again to spending her spare time at the Library; today, that meant sitting on the roof, so high up that she could almost touch the ceiling of the Citadel. She had installed a perception filter - stolen from the TARDIS docks years ago - and so long as she was quiet, no one ever looked up and saw her. It was one place on Gallifrey where she could get total peace and quiet that nobody else knew about. Not even Peri.</p><p>Being so high up also had its benefits. She hadn’t seen the Stranger in years, and so could only assume he didn’t know her hiding spot either. For once, she didn't feel spied on by him <em>or </em>by Rassilon. And pn particularly hot days, it seemed to be close enough to the habitat system that she got a little extra breeze - which, with her out of control curls, she was very grateful for. Taming them was difficult enough without the humidity, and she rarely bothered to cut her hair short. And of course, it made a pretty good tower upon which to watch the daily life of Gallifrey unfold. She enjoyed the hustle and bustle of Time Lords going about their business, undeterred by exams or living up to people's expectations or any of the petty things which <em>her </em>life seemed to revolve around these days. Children still ran through the streets and parents still watched them and Gallifrey still turned in the stratosphere. Which was why as soon as the cloister alarm had been set off near the outskirts of the Citadel, she had had a bird’s eye view of what was going on,</p><p>She was on her feet before she even knew she was moving, sweeping her books and the small collection of tech she’d been playing around with into her arms in the process. Walking briskly across the roof, she dumped them into a locked crate concealed by a cooling vent, keying in the code to seal it once again without even looking at her hands. It had become second nature, and if it occurred to her that perhaps she was <em>too </em>secretive then it didn't really matter.  <em> Better safe than sorry, </em> she thought. <em> You never know when even the </em> best <em> spots will be found. </em>Folding up the rug she had taken with her from her father’s old room so that she could put it back in the home before leaving, she tiptoed to the edge of the Library roof and craned her neck for a good view. It was one of the taller buildings in Gallifrey and sure enough, she soon spotted Castellan Temia jogging in the direction of the alarm, support in tow. He was shouting commands as he went, and pointing frantically, and it was perhaps the most animated Roda had ever seen him.</p><p>It wasn’t often that this particular alarm system went off; for the most part, the Citadel was a quiet and crime-free place. In fact, the one and only time Roda ever remembered hearing it had been a false alarm involving escaped vortisaurs in the ventilation. Rassilon had assured long ago that all of Gallifrey’s greatest threats were no more, and there was no war amongst Time Lords. On rare occasion, some big creature stumbled down from the wastelands or the mountains and had to be dealt with, but Roda hardly felt as though they could possibly be considered dangerous enough to sound the alarm; let alone the echoing ring of High Gallifreyan bidding them all to <em>‘Wait inside, the threat is being investigated’</em>.</p><p>She frowned, trying to think what could cause such a ruckus, while also making sure that no one was checking the rooftops. Her perception filter would be no use if people were actually <em> looking </em>up. But thankfully her spot remained hidden; though an easy explanation for what was going on was not forthcoming.</p><p>That was when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone knocking on the Library door. Multiple someones, knocking <em> very </em>insistently.</p><p>Roda dropped the rug in surprise - almost over the edge of the building - crumpling to the marble rooftop and swearing under her breath. Dragging herself along by her elbows - and wondering if this was one of the times it might be wise to swallow her pride and alert Rassilon to the situation - she wriggled on her belly until she could peer over the edge. What she saw was even more of a surprise. Five people huddled in the doorway of the Library, all trying to occupy the same spot underneath the golden archway at the front (which had, admittedly, seen better days). Their clothes were piecemeal and faded, not at all like the vibrant red and gold and heliotrope and aqua of the Time Lords who lived in the Citadel. The one at the back was the tallest and the oldest, and he was holding a big-looking gun up against his chest as he looked up and down the street while the others hammered down the door.</p><p>Shobogans. Roda’s hearts stopped. They were <em>s</em><em>hobogans</em>.</p><p>As she inched back across the roof - mind reeling with a hundred and one wild and likely incorrect ideas why they would be at her late father’s door - she considered shouting for the Castellan. If she screamed loud enough, he would probably hear her. But some instinct at the back of her mind told her not to. Even though the shobogans were armed, they weren’t doing anything other than knocking on a door, which meant - obviously, and confusingly enough - that they seemed to expect someone to open it for them. No one was trying to break it down, from what she could tell, and that only opened up a hundred <em> new </em>questions! Shelving them all, she opened the hatch that would drop her back into the top floor of the Library and slipped down as quietly as she could. The door clanked shut above her head and she grimaced, for a moment, before the knocking began again.</p><p>For a moment, a stupid memory rushed Roda like a colony of fledershrews, as she crept towards the spiral staircase; her father with his hand against the small of her back, promising that he would catch her as she rode down the banister. It was one of her earliest memories, and she had barely been old enough to talk at the time, but looking back on it as an adult she remembered something <em> else </em>. When they had reached the bottom of the stairs, her father had stopped, and then sent her off to play with her toys in another part of the Library. And while she hadn’t had any reason to question him at the time, innocent as she had been back then, she remembered hearing him talk with strangers. Voices that she had only heard once and never heard again.</p><p>Roda took the stairs two at a time, curiosity getting the better of her. She had left her tools on the roof, but there were heavy books and paperweights on the bottom floor, and she could grab one of those before opening the door (just in case). But she was far from quiet as she hurried, all but flying around the tight corners at each landing. No doubt the people outside would hear her running just as clearly as she heard them knocking. She stopped, once, to pick up a heavy-enough marble bust of some Time Lord she didn’t recognize. A member of the Council from long ago, perhaps? It didn't matter, it would do in a pinch. Tossing it in her hand and determining that it would knock someone out if she swung it hard enough she continued her pace, until finally she slammed shut the door to the Library and stood once again in the lobby between it, and her old home.</p><p>It had been two hundred and forty two years since she had last stood in front of the main door, wondering who was knocking on it. In all the time since she hadn’t dared come through the front door and instead climbed in through the windows as though somehow, that small act would stop her hearts from breaking at the idea that her father would never be in the building again. Catching her breath she hesitated as she stood in front of the immense mahogany, feeling as though she was eight years old all over again. Would unlocking the door at last break the spell? And if it did, would it ease the pain, or only make it worse?</p><p>“Please - Meyerodeon, <em>open the damned door</em>!”</p><p>Roda jumped as renewed knocking followed by frantic, terrified shouting interrupted her thoughts. Instinct kicked in and before she even knew what she was doing she threw back the locks and yanked open the door, coming face to face with a group of people she had never seen before in her life.</p><p>They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity; Roda surprised not to see a gun in her face, and the shobogan clearly surprised to see <em> her </em> and not her father. And then before she could open her mouth, the small crowd of dishevelled rebels pushed their way into the building and locked the door behind them, congregating in the lobby and looking very, very tired. The oldest one - the one who was carrying the gun - crept up to peer through the peephole, one gnarled finger resting on the trigger, while the rest of them continued to stare at Roda in distrust and confusion. She got the feeling he didn’t know how to use the gun; which, in turn, was shinier and cleaner than he was. Stolen, then.</p><p><em> Well </em> , she thought to herself, bitterly. <em> At least if I’m about to </em> die <em> , I’m at home again. </em></p><p>“Who are you?”</p><p>Roda tore her eyes away from the man at the door, glanced briefly at the marble statuette in her hand, and then fixed her gaze on the woman who had spoken to her. She looked old enough to be somebody’s mother, but her eyes were centuries wiser and harder, and the hands that tugged out from her loose-fitting clothing were worn and scarred. The woman had a scarf tied around her neck and the bottom half of her face, and dusty goggles sat on the top of her head. On her back - Roda could see up close - was slung the kind of bow that she had seen in books, partially wrapped in the oiled hide of a creature she didn’t recognize. As the woman addressed Roda, obviously suspicious, a much smaller figure held onto her knee and peered at Roda through wide, inquisitive eyes.</p><p>“...this is my home,” Roda replied, though the words didn’t quite feel right in her mouth. She set her jaw, lowering the bust so as not to scare the scruffy-haired child, and without thinking dropped to one knee in front of them. The mother put a hand on the child’s shoulder, pushing them backwards, but Roda set the bust on the ground and held up both her hands to show they were empty. Swallowing - remembering being a small, scared child in this very building - she tentatively smiled through her own unease. The child gave her a toothy grin - a front tooth missing - and Roda stayed at their level while continuing to talk to the adults. “You’re shobogans, aren’t you?”</p><p>Before the woman could speak again, the man with the gun turned around, glaring down at Roda with obvious venom in his eyes. “Where’s Meyer? This is <em> his </em>Library.”</p><p>Roda set her jaw, eyes darkening, and the child took a step away from her. She regretted that, but stood to face the man with her chin held high, one hand made into a fist.</p><p>“He’s <em> dead </em> ,” she spat, voice hardly even. “You of all people should know <em> that </em>.”</p><p>A concerned and shocked murmur ran through the group, and then the woman who had first spoke shook her head.</p><p>“What do you mean he's <em>dead</em>?"</p><p>“It means she’s <em> lying </em>,” the man snapped. “Just like any Time Lord.”</p><p>“Not like <em> Meyer </em> ,” argued someone in the crowd. “ <em> He </em>was good to us.”</p><p>“And you <em> killed him </em> for it!” snarled Roda, not realising the kind of anger she had in her, nor what they were talking about. “You <em> killed </em> him and left him in the streets to rot!” Her other hand made a fist, and she was faintly aware that she had stepped forward and was practically toe to toe with the man with the gun. He didn’t step away but raised his gun clumsily, and Roda slapped it away with no care for her own safety. It no longer mattered what happened to her. How <em> dare </em> her father’s killers come here looking for him? Did they want to finish the job, and end his line once and for all? If she had thought that they needed help when she’d first seen them knocking on the door, she couldn’t find it in her to care now. “So if you think I’m going to - to help you with whatever it is you’re here for, then you can think again! There is nothing for you <em>here.</em>”</p><p>It was only when the child squealed and ran behind their mother for good that Roda realised who she sounded like. An image of Rassilon flashed in front of her eyes, gauntlet raised, all of his disappointment in her evident on his face and Roda felt her shoulders fall as she visibly grimaced. This wasn’t who she wanted to be. Somebody to be feared, somebody who couldn’t care for a person in need. 'Just like any Time Lord'. That didn’t make her a hero; it just made her a bully. And the idea that she had picked up any qualities of Rassilon's at all made her shudder with distaste. Ashamed of herself, she dropped her head and massaged her temples, closing her eyes tightly. She heard the man move in front of her and say something but ignored him completely, steadying her breathing and mentally cursing herself. Omega help her, he would be so proud of her <em>now</em>, wouldn't he? Intimidating helpless shobogans, spouting the same elitist bullshit he always came out of. Her father, she guessed, would <em>not </em>be proud.</p><p>When she had gotten control of her anger, she had bit her lip so hard that it was bleeding, and she licked away the salt before looking back up at the gun that was now cautiously pointed at her once again. Everyone was quiet, and the tension could have been cut with a knife, but nobody outside seemed to have reacted to the kerfuffle. Eventually, scooping the child into her arms and lowering her scarf from her face, the woman tentatively spoke again and broke the silence.</p><p>“...he was your father, wasn’t he?” Roda nodded silently, and the woman sighed. “You have his eyes. He was good to us. Always sheltered us, and gave us supplies.” She held her child tightly, reaching out to stroke Roda’s cheek with the back of her hand. It took all of Roda's willpower not to flinch away, even as the words seemed to make no sense. He had aided rebels? Why? “I’m sorry for your loss, little one but… we would <em> never </em>have killed him.”</p><p>Roda’s mouth opened and shut again, suspicion warring with confusion. Helped them? Sheltered them? It had to be a lie. Her mother had been in the Council, and her father had been a Librarian. They were - as Rassilon was always want to remind her - good, respectable Prydonians and members of society. Why would her father have given aid to violent rebels who didn’t believe in Time Lord culture? And besides, the Castellan had been explicit about what happened from day one. Her father’s body had been found surrounded by shobogans with sharp knives and Time Lord blood on their hands. It was a clear-cut case, even if they had never admitted to the crime. Denied their involvement/ They had faced justice, Roda had been told that time and time throughout her life. They wouldn’t kill anybody else ever again… but what if they had died for a crime that they didn’t commit...?</p><p>Her legs threatened to go out from underneath her, but Roda stood her ground; not pushing the woman away from her but not returning the affection, either. She didn’t feel… threatened. Even though there was a gun pointed at her, and five and a half potentially dangerous people locked inside the Prydonian Library, somehow she knew that she was safe among them. Despite her anger and her pain, the same voice that told her to believe in Robin Hood was telling her that she could trust these strangers, and that she should give them a reason to trust her.</p><p>Wondering if she would regret it - if she would even <em> live </em>to do so - Roda held out her hands calmly as she took a step back, reaching once more for the door handle of the Library. She pushed it open with one foot - not looking over her shoulder - walking backwards and gesturing for the shobogan to follow.</p><p>“Put the gun down,” she said, as calmly and quietly as she could manage, “and come in here. The Castellan won’t look inside the Library, it's been locked forever..."</p><p>“Why should we trust <em> you </em>?” asked the man with the gun. Roda looked at him sadly, and shrugged once.</p><p>“Because I’m trusting you?” She tried again for a nervous smile. “And I’m my father’s daughter. That,” she shrugged again, “and you could just shoot me if you don’t trust me. All <em> I </em> had was…” she gestured at the discarded marble bust with her foot. “I'm not a threat. And it seems to me like you don’t have much of a <em> choice. </em>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“It only takes a tweak to make the whole world new.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “A Slip of the Keyboard: Collected Non-Fiction”, Terry Pratchett</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As Roda stood in the arched doorway - impatient and nervous - the shobogans all grouped together to talk among themselves once again. All except for the older lady and her child. Roda waggled her fingers at the child (careful to keep her hands in view of the person with the potentially happy trigger finger) and got a giggle for her troubles that almost, but not quite, made her smile more genuine. The woman studied her curiously, taking in the oil on her cheek and the loose trousers and tunic she had substituted for her usual school robes, now that a proper summer was settling in one again. The tunic was Peri’s, and more than a little too big for her, but it was comfortable. It also had the remarkable knack for making her look smaller than she actually was, and just a little bit more scruffy than she was sure Rassilon would approve of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shobogan seemed to come to some sort of conclusion while Roda was under scrutiny, and led by the armed man - their leader? - they migrated into the Library one at a time with the haste of people certain they would be caught at any moment. Which, she supposed, they <em>were</em>. She sighed with relief as the man holstered his gun once again, and she quietly locked the door behind them, putting her back to it as the shobogans milled around the lower level as if they’d been there before. By their admission of course, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but she still wasn't quite sure what to make of them. She suspected that the feeling was probably mutual, but at least no one was shooting anybody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” It was the woman who spoke up, reaching out to squeeze Roda’s forearm where she stood defensively against the door. It felt good to have her back to an escape route, just in case her hearts were leading her to ruin. “We won’t stay long, we just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need a place to hide from that bastard Temia and his bullies," snapped the older man, interrupting. The woman rolled her eyes. "Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Time Lady?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leader - Roda decided from his behaviour, he had to be - was far less pleasant than the woman who had spoken before, his tone sharp and bitter. It was raspy, as though he smoked too much, or had been ill in the past. Roda looked at the obvious repair work needing done to his clothes and then to her own, feeling a stab of guilt that while the people in the Citadel lived in peace and prosperity, those outside of it were clearly suffering. All of her life she had been told that they were rebels and terrorists and violent criminals, and that as such they deserved to live like barbarians. But the people in front of her were just that - people. People who needed help - people who, apparently, her father had trusted, even if it had gotten him killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing nagged at her, though, and she realised with a start that the leader's voice was familiar, if unkind. Had he been one of the people who had met with her father on that day </span>
  <span>they’d slid down the banisters over and over again? Was he telling the truth?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need my </span>
  <em>
    <span>permission</span>
  </em>
  <span> for anything,” she said tentatively, hoping that it was the right thing to say. But the man only snorted disdainfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me if I don’t believe you. You high and mighty Lords and Ladies always-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sax, she’s Meyer’s daughter. She let us in.” The woman rolled her eyes, juggling her child from her hip to Roda’s surprised arms to make her point. Roda held them at arm’s length at first - not sure that she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>been handed a Tot to hold before, in living memory - until the child made grabby hands for her curls and she was forced to hold them close if only to save her hair from being tugged. Curls bounced, and the child giggled, oblivious to the adults bickering. “Don’t you think we can trust her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said herself she wasn’t going to help us, Odell.” The man ran a hand through his hair. “We’re staying here until the Castellan’s gone and not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment </span>
  </em>
  <span>longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” snorted the women - Odell? “So we may as well trust her until then, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without gracing that question with another response the man turned away, throwing his hands in the air and disappearing into the depths of the Library. Roda reached a hand out to stop him - no one but </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been inside the building in nearly two hundred and fifty years - but she wasn’t quick enough. And besides, what was she supposed to say? </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Excuse me, but I’m still upset about my father’s death which I’m still not convinced you didn’t cause, so I’d rather you not look at his books?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>It sounded stupid even to think about. It wasn't as though he'd snuck his way into the building just to destroy the books...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she sank into her father’s armchair behind a large, messy desk, moving the child to her lap and absentmindedly looking through the desk drawers for something that might entertain them. It wasn't exactly a playroom, but she found a doll that might have been hers - not that she recognized it at all - and the child took it with a squeal of delight as though they had never had a toy of their own before. With a spike of guilt, Roda wondered if they ever <em>had</em>. She ruffled the child's hair, making the doll say 'hello' and smiling gently. "Keep it. I'm too big for dollies."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon the woman joined them, perching on the edge of the desk and smiling fondly at their interaction. She sighed, and dusted her palms off on her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mind Sax,” she said quietly, fondly, picking up papers for something to do with her hands. Roda didn’t stop her. “Sometimes I don’t think he trusts his own parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>either,” admitted Roda, eliciting an honest laugh from Odell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, that’s fair…” Odell sighed sadly, and then gestured at the remaining three shobogan who had been largely silent throughout the arguments. “Grumpy one’s my husband, Sax. I’m Odell. This is Bren,” she pointed at the only other person who had spoken up, “Ellan and Z’man. The wriggler on your knee,” she reached forward, ruffling the child’s hair, “is Tillie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m free!” Tillie announced proudly, holding up two fingers and then - frowning thoughtfully - a final third one. She gave Roda another toothy grin, dropping her hand and prodding at an empty spot in her mouth with her tongue. "An' I lost a toof!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s... nice,” said Roda, weakly, trying to remember all of the names and struggling to know what to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>period</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’m two hundred and fifty.” She paused. “And uh… Roda. My name’s Roda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bit short for a Time Lord,” commented one of the shobogan - Bren? - awkwardly. “Shouldn’t it be something stupid like,” he took a deep breath, “Rodainthelibraryallhighandmightytimewotsitorother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How did you say all that in one..." Roda shook her head, blinking. "I mean, it <em>is</em>," she added, only half reproachfully. "Not... that. But I'm just Roda. I'm no one important, and it's," she grinned, going for a joke, "well, easier to say."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bren roared with laughter. The rest of the group fell into silence once again. Ellan and Z’man - clearly the youngest of the group, other than Tillie - wandered around the room exploring the Library, picking up books from time to time and thumbing through them absentmindedly. Some were in Gallifreyan, while others were in a million other languages that she wondered if shobogans would be able to read. Even some Time Lords couldn't; without prolonged experience to a TARDIS translation matrix, you had to learn some languages from scratch. But Roda couldn’t help but feel an unexpected pang of pride that the books - whether understood or not - were getting some attention again after all this time. Tillie continued to play with the doll, singing some toothy song clearly of her own invention to herself, occasionally overbalancing on Roda's lap in a way that had Roda lurching to make sure she didn't hit the ground. Bren and Odell - apparently satisfied that Roda wasn't a danger to the child - put their heads together to talk quietly among themselves, and Roda found herself staring at the table most of the time, at a loss as to how to feel about the unexpected turn of events for the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the one hand, she was harbouring fugitives from the law. Fugitives who - despite their claims - might have been friends with the people who killed her father; or even the killers themselves. Fugitives who - if found here, in a Library that she would inherit in just fifty years - could not simply be hand waved away by the Authority (deserving of capitalization) of Rassilon, and who could get her into some real trouble. If the Castellan had any suspicions that someone was hiding here, it would be Roda’s neck on the line just as much of the shobogans. And if that happened, she could lose the Library, or worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand… they hadn’t given her any reason to feel threatened, at least not yet. (Apart from the gun pointed at her, of course, but she figured she could put that down to them being as unsure about her, at first, as she was about them.) They seemed to be scared and honest people - and friendly enough, apart from Sax - and Roda’s gut was telling her that despite all of the evidence she <em>could </em>trust</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>them. For now, they seemed to have trusted her, so she owed them at least that in return. And the truth of her father’s death was beginning to sit leaden in her stomach; if she could help them, maybe the could shine some light on the real story. Tell her about a side of her father that she might never have heard before. After two centuries of never hearing his name outside of taunts and sympathies, there was something refreshing about thinking there was something new to know about him. And even if they couldn’t tell her anything that she didn't know, what harm ever came of </span>
  <em>
    <span>helping </span>
  </em>
  <span>people? That shouldn't come at a cost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered if Robin Hood would be proud. She wondered if her </span>
  <em>
    <span>father </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be proud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you know my father?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the question that she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to ask, but it was the one that spilled out of her mouth. She had meant to start with something ‘more important’ like </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘why are you being chased by the Castellan?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘if you’re so innocent, why are you carrying weapons?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>But as soon as she said it, she knew that it was the only question that she really cared about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odell looked at her, raising an eyebrow before giving a small, sad smile. She gestured at an abandoned chair, as if asking for permission, and when Roda gave a cautious nod slipped into it. Tilly wriggled out of Roda’s lap and rushed over to her mother, showing off the doll with delight, and Odell took a minute or two to let the child chatter at her before returning her attention to Roda. She tilted her head to one side, a curious look on her face as she tried to decided where to begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much do you remember about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda chewed at her already torn lip. “He…” Why was she telling these strangers </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>? “He died when I was eight. I remember his hands, his smile." Sadness gripped her throat, choking out the words, and she chided herself for the weakness as she cleared her throat and continued. "I remember sliding down the banister with him, and the stories he used to tell me. Riding on his shoulders.” She hesitated, wondering if she should show her hand. “I remember him talking to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I think. Or... Sax, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odell nodded thoughtfully. “He did. Many times. I suppose you’re old enough that perhaps you’d remember… but I was much younger, then.” She sighed, looking at her knees. “Your father was a good man. Your mother, too." Roda's eyes widened - she didn't know her mother at <em>all</em>, and no one ever had anything to say about her that wasn't 'she made a good councilwoman'. "They sheltered us, even before you were born. Meyer hid us from the Castellan when we needed to creep into the Citadel for supplies." She pointed at the table Roda sat at. "There's a hidden room, below this floor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda blinked. "I - <em>what</em>?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odell chuckled and continued, not answering the question. "And your mother, well, Dahle could have looked a god in the eye and lied to their face; no one ever suspected </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But <em>why</em> did they help you?” Roda shook her head, her mind reeling. Despite herself, despite how </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude </span>
  </em>
  <span>it might have been, she couldn’t help but put out careful psychic feelers, looking for some sign that she was being lied to. On the surface, at least, all of Odell’s words seemed to be the truth. Or at least, the truth as </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>saw it. But if that was the case then it changed… everything. All of her life, she had hated the wrong people for her father’s death, while the real villains could easily still be walking around the Citadel! “Why <em>the</em></span>
  <em>
    <span>m</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because they were there? Because they were kind?” Odell shrugged. “Because no one else did? Does it really matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was my father killed because he helped you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A look of sincere pain crossed Odell’s face, and she played with Tillie’s hair absentmindedly. “...maybe. I don’t know. If he was, I…” she looked up at Roda, who was surprised to see tears in the older woman’s eyes. “If he was, then I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I truly am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain lacerated Roda’s hearts. She slumped in the chair, feeling hollowed out and shocked. Truth, again, in Odell’s eyes. Honesty. Roda pulled back her feelers, ashamed at herself for expecting that she was being lied to. Odell truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry, and… was it so hard to believe that her father had been kind, even to Gallifrey’s supposed enemies? That was the man she remembered, after all. And from everything she had ever been told about her mother, the idea that she could lie to Rassilon’s face wasn’t all that surprising, either. But it was still a lot to take in. She had believed what now sounded like a lie for more than two hundred years, and this new ‘truth’ wasn’t something she could just adopt in a second. She realised with a start that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to believe that her father had been a good man, a trusted man, but that meant believing that his death had gone unavenged, and that his kindness could have been the cause. </span>
  <span>But if he hadn’t been killed by the shobogans, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>got to him? Shobogan terrorists who weren’t affiliated with these ones? Random criminals? Or - and this idea was by far the hardest to swallow - had it been the Castellan himself? Mistaking her father for a shobogan because of those he was around, or perhaps punishing him for… what? Treason? Harbouring fugitives?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was she to believe? The Time Lords she had known all of her life, or a bunch of rebels she had truly met for the first time today? She shook her head, making a frustrated noise under her breath that she knew Odell hadn't failed to notice. She needed time and space to think, and she couldn’t get it here. But there was nowhere for her to run to, and she was damned if she was leaving these people alone in the Library. Even if she’d decided that she could trust them - and so far, she had - that trust only went so far. They had still pointed a gun at her, and they were still armed, and there was still the very real chance that they were adept liars with better telepathic abilities than she gave them credit for and were the murderous bastards she’d always thought they were after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except… she hadn’t. She had been sympathetic to the stories of rebels arrested within the Citadel walls since she was a teenager; ever since she had learned about the Merry Men of Sherwood. Which meant that she was sympathetic to a bunch of murderers or a complete idiot, or there was more to the story than the Council wanted the people of Gallifrey to believe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The latter made an uncomfortable amount of sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” she asked, steering the topic away from her father. “Today, I mean. Not…” she waved a hand at the Library. “Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but in the Citadel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Bren who answered. He looked young, with dishevelled black hair and a heavy scar splitting his face orthogonally. Roda would have guessed that he was about her age - either literally, or mentally; she hadn't paid anywhere near enough attention in Gallifreyan biology and they barely touched on the shobogans as it were - although while she had twelve whole lives ahead of her this was his one and only. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was that like?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Living one life knowing you’d die at the end of it? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prison break.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda's jaw. “...what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sax’s brother,” explained Odell, all gentleness gone from her face. “He was always too soft. Figured you Time Lords - no offence, the other ones - wouldn’t harm ‘im if he just asked for some food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sandstorms in the drylands destroyed our crops this year,” continued Bren. “The old man figured if we just </span>
  <em>
    <span>explained</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sax tried to stop him," picked up Odell, as Bren made fists and fell quiet. "But he wouldn’t listen. Went off on his own, got himself captured.” Odell swallowed. “We don’t even-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t even know if he’s still alive,” finished Bren, expression dark. “But we had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We look after our own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda felt herself open and close her fists in her lap, a flash of anger overwhelming her. She wasn't sure exactly <em>who </em>she was angry at, only that the whole situation felt overwhelmingly unfair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t make any </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span>! We have plenty of food to spare, even replicators." She ran a hand through her hair, tugging strands loose haphazardly. "If you had just asked-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” snorted Bren. “Then your Lord President would have welcomed us in with open arms? Fed and sheltered us? Sent us on our way with food to spare and his almighty blessing?" He looked away, his hackles just as raised as Roda's were. "Is <em>that </em>what they tell you Time Lords they do, to sate your consciences</span>
  <span>? Or are you all simply too privileged not to realise what 'we took care of them' <em>really </em>means?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey! We're not <em>all</em> like..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda frowned, unable to find a good argument. He was right. They never did give the shobogans a chance to speak for themselves, and many of the older Time Lords considered them to be barbaric and savage. And yet here she was, having a perfectly reasoned conversation with two people who were certainly a couple of meals short of well nourished. Surely not </span>
  <em>
    <span>every </span>
  </em>
  <span>Time Lord had always turned them away, but these days… she didn’t know a single Time Lord who wouldn’t have, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda’s nose scrunched up in displeasure. It wasn’t unheard of for shobogans to be taken prisoner, especially if he’d been mistaken for a rebel. And there had been executions, of course, or at least charges laid. She had never really paid it much attention, and she was beginning to think that perhaps she <em>should </em>have. But she hadn't heard about any shobogan activity in the Citadel <em>recently</em> - was it being covered up? Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. Perhaps if she…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t finish that thought. No, she highly doubted Rassilon would let the man go if she just asked him nicely. Not with the elections coming up in the next couple of weeks, to coincide with the recent graduation ceremonies. He had spent more time than usual in the Panopticon, and given so many speeches that Roda no longer bothered to tune into them. And even if he was inclined to listen to her, she doubted he would do her a favour quite as big as <em>this </em>without significant proof, which she wouldn't be able to give without admitting her involvement. Call her cowardly, but she didn't see <em>that </em>admittance going well at all...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why bring your child, then?” The thought nagged at her, as Roda watched Tillie play as though she was any other Time Tot. What separated shobogans from Time Lords, really, but for a symbiote that could have been given to </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of them. But for the grace of science, Roda was a Time Lord, and they were shobogans. And yet she had been raised to think of them as the enemy. Tillie was just like any other Tot in the kindergarten. “If you thought you had to come armed, why bring </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bren laughed humourlessly. “She snuck along. Hid in our transport. S’why we came here, to Mey-” he cut off, and pursed his lips. “Well, to you I guess. 'Cause we couldn't let her get hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter if any of us get captured or killed,” said Odell, holding onto her daughter tight. “But not my Tillie. They won't have my Tillie. I thought maybe if we came here, your father could hide us until the Castellan gave up the hunt, then help us get out. And if he had connections in the Council, maybe he could find out if Mal was still…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odell looked away, clearly upset. Roda wanted to reach out to her and comfort her, but she didn't know if she would just be pushed away, or make the pain worse. Instead - feeling as though she had to do <em>something </em>to make this right - she slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out the by-now crushed bar she had stolen away from the Academy canteen some time ago and had found in her trousers that morning. It wasn’t the tastiest thing in the world, and she had probably sat on it at some point in the day. She reckoned it had been there for weeks if not longer (honestly, she was just surprised that Peri hadn't thrown it out) but they were designed to last for long school trips that the older students went on. It would still be good to eat. Tearing it open with her teeth she pulled herself to her feet and held out the sticky, half-wrapped package to Tillie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here. I know it doesn't... fix things. But it tastes of berries."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The child glanced at her mother for permission, eyes wide with wonder, and then stuffed half of the bar into her mouth in one go when her Odell nodded at her. Crumbs went everywhere and it wasn’t long until the bar was devoured and Odell’s sleeves were a mess of sticky smudges as she dabbed at her child’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bren watched her with a new expression on his face, his opinion slowly changing. He leaned casually against the wall, sizing Roda up with newfound interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>Meyer’s daughter, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I lie about that?” Roda asked quietly, disbelievingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because Time Lords always lie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t,” Roda argued. “At least, y'know," she tried to smile, "not about something like this. So that’s one of us, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One in a million."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda sighed, but there wasn't a good comeback to that. “What are you going to do about your… prison break?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odell’s face fell again. Her voice was almost a whisper. “If he is alive, s'not much we can do now. Castellan’s going to be turning the whole Citadel upside down looking for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stay here,” Roda said, earnestly. It was - and she knew it - the <em>very </em>least that she could do, but her hands were tied. As the ward of the President, she had nowhere better to offer them and she wasn't stupid enough not to know that getting caught would be a diplomatic issue on a colossal scale that would... well, be an absolute headache, at the very least. But she was also only one person. She might have been largely powerless, but she would never forgive herself if she didn't do <em>something. </em>“I’ll - I’ll bring you more food, whatever you need. If Castellan Temia tries to force his way in here, I’ll just tell him it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>inheritance."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bren grinned wickedly. "You think you can tell off the Castellan? Now <em>that </em>I wish I could see."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have... connections," she said, vaguely, before hurrying on. Best not to let them ask <em>what </em>connections and let slip who had raised her. Somehow, it felt as though mentioning Rassilon’s name was about the worst thing that she could do. And it wasn’t as though she <em>could </em>ask him a favour, anyway. Not without giving away the fact that she was harbouring fugitives in the Library, apparently just like her father had done. <em>Apparently, </em>suggested a little voice, <em>just as my father had gotten himself killed</em>. "But anyway, when the alarm dies down, you can-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We blew our chance soon as we set the alarms off. They’ll up security. If my brother in law isn’t already dead, there’s no way in Skaro we’re getting him out now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could…” Roda trailed off. </span>
  <span>“I mean, I could ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>questions</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She knew how weak the offer was as soon as Odell pulled another face at her, and held up her hands apologetically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to help us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What went unspoken between them was the fact that she probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Neither was ready to say it out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, though!” argued Roda, eyes flashing. “If - if my father would have… even if he didn’t, you’ve done nothing to hurt me. Why would I hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re a Time Lord?" </span>
  <span>As Sax reappeared, skimming through a book he had chosen from the Library seemingly at random, Roda felt her frustration grow again. Oh, she might have decided that she liked Odell and Bren and Tillie, but Sax was still an asshole. And his blind hatred of her was beginning to get more than a little tiring. "Because you <em>can</em>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up Sax.” Putting Tilly on the ground to keep playing Odell stood up, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her husband. She was a small, round-faced woman and seemed to be half his height, with cropped brown hair and a crooked nose. Sax, despite his age, could have overpowered them all, Roda guessed. But it didn’t matter at all to Odell, who glared up at him as though she had the power of the heart of a TARDIS behind her. Sax raised an eyebrow, but bit his tongue. “The child says we can stay here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming on three hundred…” Roda pouted despite herself, muttering under her breath so that no one could (hopefully) hear her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if she changes her mind?” snapped Sax, gesticulating at Roda with the book. The Time Lady tipped her head, but could only make out the author and not the title. Some Gallifreyan scholar, if she remembered correctly. It had been in her syllabus a few decades back. Not irreplaceable, then, if he damaged it waving it around like an idiot. “What then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we cross that bridge when we come to it,” argued Odell. “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>trust her, and Tillie trusts her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tillie trusts </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not true,” piped up Bren, moving to stand beside Roda as he did so. “She bit Z’man last week because he woke her up too early.” His hand ghosted down to take Roda’s, and she found herself squeezing his fingers, and shooting him a sideways smile. <em>He isn't bad looking</em>, said a cheeky little voice at the back of her mind. She blushed, but he smiled back. “And I trust her, too. She said she’d try and find out what happened to Mal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sax snorted derisively. “She’s either lying, or stupid.”</span>
</p><p>"Probably stupid," said Roda, self-deprecatingly.</p><p>
  <span>“But she means well,” said Odell. Roda wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or not. “That has to count for something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t like her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” snapped Odell, tweaking her husband on the nose. Sax recoiled with surprise, but shut his mouth. “But you like </span>
  <em>
    <span>me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and you like Bren</span>
  <span>. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>say she’s not going to turn us in, and that you should shut your damn mouth and accept some help for once in your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the quiet chuckle from Bren standing beside her, still holding her hand, Roda could tell it wasn’t the first time that they’d argued like this. Hopefully, they would make it out of the Citadel alive like she’d said, and it wouldn’t be the last time they argued. Roda couldn’t do much… but she could do something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” she said, cutting into the middle of a sentence that seemed to have deviated from the task at hand into petty comments about unbrushed hair and goodness only knew what else. Both shobogans stared at her as though they'd completely forgotten she or Bren was there. “Clearly I have… no idea what life is like for your people. But if my father thought you deserved his help, then so do I. Let me do something to make up for the rest of my people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sax glowered at her for a long time. Roda held his gaze, feeling her resolve waver as her mind still rushed with unanswered questions and utterly destroyed ideologies. But she didn't dare look away, didn't dare give him any reason to think that she wasn't sincere. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Two hundred and forty two years of lies…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually he seemed to come to some sort of decision and tore his eyes away from Roda, turning to press a kiss to his wife’s cheek. Odell ran a hand through Sax’s hair, resting her forehead against his in a gesture so like the way that she and Peri shared affection that Roda couldn’t help but smile. And then they pulled apart, and Sax gave her an angry, but defeated, half-grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. But only because Odell’s the one who really wears the trousers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Roda smiled, genuinely, “and I promise, I’ll do what-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t trust you. And I don’t want your help finding my brother,” Sax interrupted. “But if we can stay here, then you have my… thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a start. Even if Sax would probably have had more fun pulling his own fingernails out than admitting he was grateful for a Time Lord. If everything that they had said was true, then Roda couldn’t find it in herself to blame them. And however long they had to stay here, she would make sure that they were safe as best as she could. Maybe, just maybe, she would finally get some </span>
  <em>
    <span>answers</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Do not most people simply drift away?”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- C. S. Lewis</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Forty years later…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to remember any of this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda flopped dramatically across a stack of paperwork and groaned. Beside her Peri patted her hair tentatively and rescued his stethoscope from the table, sighing deeply. Tilting her head to look at him by dragging it woefully across her homework Roda groaned again and prayed for some disaster to drag her away from her studies. She had been done with quantum physics more than two hundred years ago. Position basis this, eigenstates that… she knew what she would much rather be studying on the tabletop. Peri, however, was determined to get her to memorize equations until she regenerated from boredom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri’s office was comfortable and cool, and even though it always smelled of chemicals Roda found it one of the better places to study. Perhaps it was because Peri always held her accountable and stopped her mind from wandering. Perhaps it was because even though they were no longer dating, it meant that she got to spend time with him. She wasn’t strictly </span>
  <em>
    <span>speaking </span>
  </em>
  <span>supposed to spend as much time in the Medicae as she did, but he was particularly good at finding excuses to have her around and Roda was both touched and grateful. Today, though, she could have dug her way out of the building with her bare hands if it meant not having to study any longer. There was less than a decade before she was supposed to sit her final exams, graduate the Academy and become a full Time Lady, and she didn’t feel any more prepared now than she had the day she’d looked into the Untempered Schism. She couldn’t understand how anyone was </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>supposed to be prepared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paying no attention to Roda’s quiet tantrum, Peri continued to stroke her hair and laughed under his breath. He eased the sheet of paper that was sticking to her cheek out of her ‘grip’ and scanned it quickly, immediately understanding what Roda was failing to grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon,” he tsked, leaning on the edge of the table. Roda opened one eye to watch him, wondering just when he had gotten taller and more slender. He still had that little bit of fat that had always made sleeping against him so comfortable, but he had gotten more in shape since joining the Corps, and she had hardly noticed. (And she wasn’t supposed to keep looking at his butt and wanting to grab it, she tried to remind herself. Not anymore. Although she couldn’t help but want to know if it would be more firm, now.) “We learned this when we were practically tots. Position basis is…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri sighed. “Yes, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>is it boring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Position basis is the rule consisting of eigenwhosits-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“States.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And eisenwhatsits-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Values,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roda…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of the nondegenerate observable corresponding to the… the… </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh…</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Corresponding to measuring position in three-dimensional space,” concluded Peri, kindly. “You almost had it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you just wrap your head around this everything else about kets and Hilbert space will make perfect sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See,” drawled Roda, lifting her head and taking back the paper, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrap my head around a bunch of long words. That’s the problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you can memorize sixteen different theories about the origins of an obscure Sol-3 folk hero?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Robin Hood is interesting. This isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>will make not falling into a black hole trying to work out which of those sixteen theories is correct </span>
  <em>
    <span>easier</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed to stretch her legs before she went mad. Roda pushed the chair back so hard that the legs squealed across the floor and rubbed her eyes as she pushed herself to her feet. Little motes of light filled her vision like an oil spill as she blindly slipped her sandals back on and began to pace the room. As she did, she heard Peri returning to his own day to day work, and tried to reassure herself that even though he was far smarter than she was, she’d be there one day too. Not in the Medical Corps of course, but she was good enough. She could and </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>pass her exams and there’d be a place in the universe for her, too. Perhaps at the TARDIS docks, or some sort of field engineer who got to travel or.. or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t good with straight facts. The universe worked, and that was all that mattered to her. And sometimes, it didn’t work in ways that were fair. Why Time Lords were supposed to understand every tiny detail of </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>it worked was beyond her. But just because the world turned without her noticing every little cog didn’t mean she was an idiot. She could do engineering homework with her eyes closed, had graduated from her TARDIS studies before the rest of her class, and could </span>
  <em>
    <span>build </span>
  </em>
  <span>the tools that answered the fiddly equations for her. And besides, without professors breathing down her neck there was no real reason she couldn’t consult a book if she was stumped. After all, she was inheriting a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Library. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The idea that she had to memorize everything she learned seemed… frustrating, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to do fine,” announced Peri absentmindedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had always been good at sensing her moods, especially when she didn’t talk about them. And, Roda supposed, she was probably burning a path in the floor of his office with her pacing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dragged herself out of her self pity and went to see what he was up to. Pulling a pair of goggles back over his eyes, Peri was carefully unstoppering a test tube held in a suspension of liquid nitrogen in one gloved hand, while prepping a pipetter with the other. In a Petri dish off to one side - steaming slightly where it had clearly just been taken from a freezer as well - was some sort of… something. A culture of brownish splotches he was clearly going to add the contents of the test tube to. A part of her wanted to ask him what he was doing… but she suspected that not only would it go over her head, it would also be just as boring as her studying. He’d said something early about testing a vaccine of some sort. Trust him to want to look after all of Gallifrey after years of looking after </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of asking him, she rested her elbow on his head the same way she had when they were children, laughing as he disgruntledly pulled away and gave her a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She threw up her hands in mock surrender and sat down in his chair hard enough that it rocked before settling on four legs once again, and sighed. Peri rolled his eyes, and then continued setting his pipetter, squinting to make sure he had the decimal point in the right place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you keep saying,” mumbled Roda, before rubbing her eyes again and summoning some cheer. “So Rassilon keeps saying, too.” Her eyes flashed mischeviously. “Kind of want to run off and screw the exams, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri raised an eyebrow at her through his tinted goggles, rolling down the sleeves of his lab coat and buttoning them up. The pipetter sat on the table beside his work, and Roda resisted the urge to poke it out of boredom and distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think that’s a good idea?” He glanced at her, holding out his off arm. Roda buttoned up his sleeve like she always had, as though nothing at all was different between them. It wasn’t, really; they just didn’t kiss, anymore. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’fine. And no, I know it’s a terrible idea.” Roda shook her head, laughing quietly. “But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>tempting. Bet I could steal my TARDIS and disappear before anyone even noticed I was gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Peri stuck out his tongue as he focused, returning his attention to the petri dish. “You probably could, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda threw her arms up in mock despair, and dropped her head onto her folded arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you have to hog all the smarts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri laughed. Roda’s hearts somersaulted again. She bit the inside of her cheek as she heard him walking about. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not mine anymore. Why does he still make me smile so easily? </span>
  </em>
  <span>For a moment she closed her eyes, feeling like a teenager again. Hormones this, hormones that. On the one hand, she still had feelings for Peri and on the other, Bren was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>enthusiastic kisser. She couldn’t have both and really, she couldn’t have either of them and yet here she was thinking more about kissing people than she was her schoolwork. Wasn’t she supposed to be past that stage, by now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she forced her eyes open again she rolled them, doing her best to hide the fact that she was apparently thinking with something further south than her brain. But before she could say anything Peri cut in with one of his winks, and all thought of getting back to studying fell apart into pieces so small she would have to master quantum physics just to see them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>got all the looks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flirt,” she said, glad that her arms were hiding her blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guilty as charged. Now.” Roda lifted her head just as Peri dropped her homework in front of her. “Run me through why an eigenstate has to be observable, again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The arrow thudded into a random bush, and Roda swore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed as though she was never going to get the hang of this. She had read </span>
  <em>
    <span>every </span>
  </em>
  <span>book on archery that she had been able to get her hands on and watched a hundred, a thousand videos and yet her makeshift target was still as unblemished as the day she had made it. She was tired, and her arms ached, and a little voice at the back of her mind was telling her that if her hero were to see her now, he was sure to laugh. It wasn’t that her aim was poor, or even that she hadn’t practiced her technique over and over until she could draw back the string without much effort. It was just that she was apparently very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad at archery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odell, of course, had given her some begrudging pointers. The shobogan had just told her to keep at it; but also that she was probably wasting her time, because why did a Time Lord need to know archery? Roda hadn’t had a good answer to that; at least not one that wouldn’t make Odell worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the in loco parent of half of the shobogans, it seemed Odell had adopted Roda after that period hiding in the Library, and fussed over her whenever she visited. In fact, she fussed over everyone, so far as Roda could tell. Tillie called her ‘smothering’ and Bren - who was not her child, but might as well have been - tolerated the attention out of kindness but always messed up his hair as soon as Odell was out of sight. They were both fun to be about - Roda brought supplies to the edge of their camp, whenever she could - but she didn’t really feel as though she could ask either of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them </span>
  </em>
  <span>for tips either. Besides, she’d gotten </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>far learning on her own, had she not? She could keep on teaching herself until she either gave up, or stumbled into being good at it. It seemed more than a little colonialist to ask the shobogans to do her a favour and teach her properly, after everything the Time Lords had done to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem, Roda told herself, dragging her thoughts away from other people’s drama, was that this was no time for honing a hobby anyway. She could barely sneak out of the Citadel anymore, be it for target practice or to visit her friends. Not because anyone was watching her more closely, but because she already had too much on her plate. Studying for exams, tinkering with her TARDIS, Rassilon’s strange apparent obsession with keeping her up to date on Gallifreyan politics… and when she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>finally have an hour or two to herself, she found herself first of all wanting to spend it with Peri and - when she remembered that wasn’t an option anymore - wanting to spend it asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sleeping more than the average Time Lady her age </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to, she was sure, but with sleep came the blessing of not having to think about anything. Even dreams could be kept at bay with a little telepathic finessing that worked seventy percent of the time. The other thirty percent of nights were a blur of turning up at the Academy without her robes on, losing herself in a forest she didn’t recognize or saying something colossally stupid and alienating the few people she could call her friend. And sometimes, just before she woke up, she would see the robed stranger and wake up feeling like she had done something very wrong and didn’t yet know what. But at least that nonsense went away in the morning, which was more than could be said for everything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, terrible though she apparently was at archery and little though she had time to improve, she couldn’t help but enjoy it. There was something exhilarating about both doing something no one else knew about, and practicing how to hit a target. (Something, she supposed, that was not ‘becoming’ of a Time Lord. It was very… feral.) Perhaps it was just her childhood obsession - a desire to meet Robin Hood and make a good first impression - or perhaps it was just the joy of disobedience. The thrill of getting to do something she chose, and not something she had to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swinging the large bow over her shoulder, she stalked off in search of her missing arrows. At least three were in the bush, but Rassilon only knew where the rest of them had gone. As she searched she found herself humming pleasantly, and let her thoughts drift - so much so that when someone grabbed her by the shoulder, she hadn’t heard them creeping up on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda reacted with a speed she didn’t know she was capable of. One second she was bent over looking for an arrow, wrapping her hand around what could be a shaft and the next she had thrown back her elbow with as much force as she could muster. She shouted as she did so - not even stopping to consider that it might be someone she knew - and felt the hand on her shoulder lose its grip. Someone staggered away from her with a pained ‘ooft’ and Roda spun on her heel, giving them a hard shove in the chest and sending them pinwheeling to the ground. As the figure on the ground coughed and grimaced, Roda picked up one of the arrows she had dropped by the bush and aimed it at their face only to freeze as recognition dawned on her. The arrow slipped from her hand, and the whirlwind reaction of the past few seconds dawned on her as her not-attacker stared up at her in obvious astonishment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You - you pack quite a </span>
  <em>
    <span>punch </span>
  </em>
  <span>with that elbow.” The scruffy-haired figure on the ground wheezed, one arm wrapped around their stomach. Roda watched him for a second and then remembered she should probably be offering him a hand up, but he shook his head and lay back in the dust instead. Cheeks reddening, she crossed her legs and sat down beside him, the missing arrows forgotten. “Here I thought you couldn’t aim for shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Omega’s beard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bren, you scared me half to death!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’not a problem. You can just regenerate. My </span>
  <em>
    <span>ribs </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the other hand…” the shobogan poked his side tentatively. “Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to jab me so hard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to hit you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of your elbow if you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hit someone.” He paused, looking up at the sky and catching his breath. Despite the receding pain on his face, Roda could see the laugh in his eyes and decided she was probably forgiven. She still blushed, though. “What’re you doing out here in our territory, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda held up an arrow weakly. “Practicing. Ra-” she caught herself just in time, letting herself fall to the ground beside Bren with a thud. “My... guardian’d have half my lives if he knew I was doing this instead of studying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can he </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck if I know,” laughed Roda. “I didn’t pay attention in Advanced Symbiotic Genetics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t blame you,” Bren sighed. “Sounds boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two laid in relative silence for a couple of minutes, but for the sound of Bren occasionally coughing and Roda muttering apologies. Above them clouds began to draw in, shading them from the heat of midday, and Roda squirmed so that she wasn’t lying on her bow. She set it reverently on the ground, and let the tension ease out of her limbs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What a strange turn of events</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she mused, looking for patterns in the clouds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lying in the dust with a shobogan I call a friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skaro, but it was good to have someone she didn’t have to be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>reverent </span>
  </em>
  <span>about Gallifrey around. Especially Rassilon. She even had to be careful what she said around Peri, who couldn’t help but sneak a lecture on studying into every conversation they seemed to have. It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed studying in his office with him a few days ago… but this was much more relaxing. Bren wasn’t expecting anything and Roda felt her smile growing with relief. It had been a long time since she’d felt able to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bren finally caught his breath and rolled onto his side, pushing himself up on one elbow. Roda turned her head to the side to look at him, already forming another ‘sorry’ when he put his hand over her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pythia’s sake. I get it, you’re sorry!” Roda pulled a face, resisting the urge to throw in one more apology just to be a git. “Just don’t do it again, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda snorted. “Don’t creep up on people in bushes, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking for my arrows?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bren paused and then sat up, glancing at the target Roda had lent against a tree. He narrowed his eyes at it and then smirked, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>realize you’re meant to hit the target, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda rolled her eyes and sat up as well. “Oh, and I’m sure you could do </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bren barked a laugh. “Not with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bow. It’s way too big for you, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>shorter.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Roda paused, feeling like a bit of an idiot and somehow unwilling to admit it. She didn’t want Bren to think less of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does… size matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words hit her a moment too late. Roda smacked her palm into her face at the same time as Bren hit the ground once again, positively roaring with laughter. He continued until he was red in the face, trying to choke out a joke about size more than once to no success. At first, Roda crossed her arms over her chest and glared down at him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>daring </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to continue, until it became clear he wasn’t going to stop any time soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could talk herself out of it she rolled over, grabbing him by the lapels of his waistcoat and lifting him off the ground to shut him up with her mouth. Bren gave a surprised squeak, and then his expression warmed as he returned the attention. His hand snaked to the back of Roda’s head, pulling her tighter against him. When she made to pull back - having finally shut him up - he lurched back to the ground and took Roda with him, kissing her again. They were both covered in dust, and Roda’s robes had rolled up. She felt her knees burn as bare skin grazed pebbles and rocks, but didn’t let go of Bren’s shirt as each of them fought for control of the grapple. Her hearts raced as his knee slipped between her legs, and Bren groaned as Roda adjusted her grip to pull his hair, tugging at his lip with her teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt about as far from a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lady </span>
  </em>
  <span>as she had ever felt in her life, but she realized that she felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Bren - despite having been winded not so long ago - suddenly flipped her onto the ground and pressed his mouth to her throat. Tilting her head back she felt him bite and suck, no doubt leaving a bruise and put her hands on his chest half-heartedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bren…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to stop?” Roda could feel his voice against her skin, rumbling and low. “Or do you want me to do that again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bastard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bren chuckled, and Roda could feel him growing hard against her leg. “But you like it, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda’s breath was ragged as she pushed him away, and licked her lips. “Didn’t come out here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re tired of the Citadel,” Bren pressed, holding himself up on his arms instead of continuing. Giving her time to gather her thoughts. “Tired of that stuck-up guardian of yours and exams and lords and ladies. Else you wouldn’t be out here shooting a poor, unsuspecting bush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But damn it, why did he have to be so right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t feel like continuing to talk. Roda dove up, catching Bren’s bottom lip in her teeth and winking at him in a way that she hoped said ‘come and get it’. Taking the hint, the shobogan sank his teeth into the side of her neck once again, biting until Roda gasped with pain and closed her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t love, this. It wasn’t what she had had with Peri, or anything she had ever had in the Citadel; one night stands as she’d tried to get over her first love. But this was wild, and savage and </span>
  <em>
    <span>freedom</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and there were no rules. Bren was right; she was tired of everything and ready to run away and never look back. Once upon a time she had thought Peri would come with her. Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bren</span>
  </em>
  <span> would, instead. Maybe they could run away together. Or maybe she just needed to lie here on the ground in the middle of the badlands and think with her body instead of her mind for a little bit. Let a friend give her what she needed to take her mind off everything but sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was probably that. After they were done, she and Bren talked long into the night about nothing in particular. Bren held her and listened, and Roda poured out her frustrations about everything going on at home, and listened to the problems that he was having in turn. That she had to put up with a lecture and a grounding from a furious Rassilon later on did nothing to ruin Roda’s good mood.  She pressed her fingers into the bruises on her neck, and made herself a note to put some ointment on them in the morning. But as she fell into bed and slept easier than she had in years, one thought lingered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was good to let go. Let go of Peri and appreciate the friendship they still had. Let go of the stress of trying to live up to expectations that she knew she could never meet while still being happy. Let go of fear that she would never graduate and never escape. Just for once, just for this night, nothing could rustle her feathers.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“I've always longed for adventure,<br/>To do the things I've never dared.<br/>Now here I'm facing adventure<br/>Then why am I so scared?”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “I Have Confidence”, The Sound of Music</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which the plan is finally revealed - not least of all to me, who had been dithering between two possible ideas and finally decided to go with the one that Roda would dislike the most ;) Hey, I have a reputation for annoying my characters to upkeep...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Nine years later...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda had never been inside the Panopticon before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt somehow… underdressed. Or improperly dressed. Or as though she wanted to be dressed as unlike the way that was expected of her inside the chamber as possible. It wasn’t a sensation she could put a finger on, and she couldn’t help but squirm as she paced around the room outside and tried to figure out why she had been told to meet Rassilon </span>
  <em>
    <span>here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had summoned her to various meeting places before, of course. On occasion he had even asked her to meet him outside the building, to deliver some item or another from his chambers to him when his political duties ran longer than he expected. When she had been younger, Roda had </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see this deep inside the building - knowing full well that the more she asked, the less likely it was Raz would invite her inside - but since the ordeal years ago playing Eighth Man Bound… it didn’t make sense, really, but her mind had changed. </span>
  <span>After that day, whenever she had passed the council buildings she had just felt a sense of unease. Danger. As if something </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible </span>
  </em>
  <span>had happened there, or would happen there, and that she could feel it in her gut. She had unconsciously changed her route home from the Academy, hoping to avoid getting too close by. It was only years later, grilled by a confused Peri, that she had even realized she was doing it. Some part of her clearly knew something that the rest of her did not, and so pressed for an answer she had been unable to give one. Stepping into the waiting room now - surrounded by statues of the Chapter founders - she simply couldn’t fight the feeling that she was not supposed to be there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a stupid feeling. After all, it was where graduation ceremonies were held. She was as welcome inside as any other Time Lord or Lady was, and she had done nothing wrong. Really, she would have to get over her discomfort sooner rather than later, and she couldn’t help but chastise herself for being anxious about a </span>
  <em>
    <span>building</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in the grand scheme of things. There was much more to be stressed about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She distracted herself by trying to remember the names of the statuesque faces surrounding her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>After all</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought to herself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’re probably going to come up in Advanced Gallifreyan History. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Each Chapter had been tasked with building one of the statues, she remembered, and the end result was a motley collection of designs that had all (naturally) tried to outdo one another. They towered far taller than any Gallifreyan, their faces shrouded in shadow. Quietly observing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The easiest two to recognize were the Prydonian and Arcalian contributions; Rassilon and Omega respectively. Rassilon’s statue somehow managed to look just as much as though it had a staff up its arse as the real person did, albeit in fancier clothing. An older regeneration, too, but Roda could still tell it was him. It had that certain air of self-importance to it, not to mention his gauntlet and staff. Omega’s statue, on the other hand, gave Roda the unsettling suggestion that he was thinking about something. Like he was still alive, trapped inside the statue as opposed to having paid the ultimate sacrifice for the life that they lived. It was uncanny, and she wouldn't have been surprised to hear that there were others who felt the same way she did. As she walked, the eyes seemed to follow her, and she looked away with a guilt she couldn’t quite place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing beside Omega was Pandak; the creator of the Oubliette of Eternity. Roda didn’t want to think too much about him, the Oubliette or the Neverpeople. Though the statue remained, it was a relief to know he was imprisoned. She didn’t quite remember what </span>
  <em>
    <span>for </span>
  </em>
  <span>but reading about the Oubliette gave her the creeps. She sped up as she passed him, and stopped in front of a statue she assumed was The Other. It had the least detail - nothing about her face stood out - but for a scroll clasped in one extended hand. They had been taught at school that she had inspired Rassilon to create the Protocols of the Great Houses, but Roda had always been more interested in the theory she’d once read that she'd had a hand in the creation of the first Type 1 TARDIS. She looked like a thoughtful person. Someone she would have loved to talk to. Someone who would give interesting advice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two statues she could only guess at. The one with the boots that looked as though they could take an eye out was probably Apeiron, she decided. Which meant that the particularly ostentatious final statue was Eutenoyar. </span>
  <span>Despite her unease, Roda couldn’t help but smirk. The Scendelesions had almost bankrupted themselves building that one; and it was by far the ugliest. All gilded and drowning in ostentation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aesthetic is in the eye of the beholder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda had honed the ability not to jump when Rassilon managed to come up behind her unannounced, but his invasion of her surface thoughts still made her twitch. Careful not to let him see the irritation on her face she turned to face him as he came down the stairs behind her, tapping his staff on each step. (She tried not to think </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard about the fact that it seemed he had started doing that </span>
  <em>
    <span>after </span>
  </em>
  <span>startling her, on </span>
  <em>
    <span>purpose</span>
  </em>
  <span>. To make a point that she wasn't paying attention, no doubt. How much of his behaviour was him being an arsehole and how much was just her being paranoid was - at times - difficult to decide.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” she replied, as calmly as she could manage. Semi-diplomatic. “But wouldn’t you say adding a couple extra inches and some decorative chiseled bits is just... overcompensating for something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A laugh almost, but not quite, graced Rassilon’s face. Roda relished that brief reminder of an easier relationship. When he had been glad of her questions, or at least encouraged them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>say so,” Rassilon announced. After a pause, his expression softened and he added: “It would be diplomatically miscalculated, to say the least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I wouldn’t say it to a Scendelesion’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>face</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Roda said, quietly, rolling her eyes. Rassilon gave a disapproving sigh, which Roda ignored as she dipped her head in a more polite greeting. “Anyway. You wanted to meet me here, Raz- Lord Rassilon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damned stranger. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d been slipping up and thinking of him as Raz ever since that first meeting; it was going to get her into trouble eventually. But he hadn’t seemed to have notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon stopped beside the statue of Omega for a second - just long enough for Roda to see him touch one hand to its arm - before making for the Panopticon doors. The gesture was oddly gentle, and for a moment her frustration melted away. She supposed they had been friends, once upon a time. It must have been hard to see his face every time he entered the building. The reaction made him seem less like a President in a way that Roda hadn’t seen in a very, very long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, Rodageitmososa.” The moment passed quickly, but his tone was surprisingly casual despite the summons. Roda raised an eyebrow. “Tell me something about Eutenoyar </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> than the slant of his nose while we walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Roda dutifully wracked her brain for some fact. Rassilon had been randomly quizzing her on what she had learned at the Academy for the past year; it might have been paternal, had every question not felt like a personal review of two hundred and ninety years of acquaintance. While the surprise quizzes from Peri were a kindness, Rassilon’s timing usually felt more like an imposition. But she spoke about the Founder while she followed Rassilon, ignoring how her discomfort only grew as she got closer to the heavy domed door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nerves,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she told herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s probably just nerves. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But if she was forced to admit it, the impromptu study sessions weren’t entirely unhelpful. Peri helped her with science; Rassilon focused on law and history; Bren and Odell knew plenty about the flora and fauna of the planet. The rest she didn’t have trouble with and she supposed she was at least lucky to have people almost more invested in her passing her exams than </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was. And right now, it was taking her mind off things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stairs up to the Panopticon seemed to go on forever. Certainly too long for Roda to keep on talking about a founder about whom there was little more to know than ‘there have been some cults’ and ‘Rassilon has confirmed his nose really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>that big’. (Not that she said that last piece of information in quite so candid words.) Her mouth felt dry, and she still didn’t understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wanted to meet with her here, and not just talk at their quarters. She didn’t think it was a day that the council was in session. Was there something he wanted to show her, a field trip of sorts to study for her exams? Or was she to meet someone? As usual, he was inconceivably vague.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon’s body shielded her view of what he did with the doors as she reached the top of the steps. He made a rough noise that might have been ‘very good’ in response to her thoughts on Eutenoyar, and then the doors went </span>
  <em>
    <span>clunk </span>
  </em>
  <span>and opened inwards. Rassilon shifted to face her, waving her into the Panopticon ahead of him with a sweep of his staff. Swallowing any sign of uncertainty, Roda lifted her head and did as she was bade, stepping into the kaleidoscope of teal light and looking around in astonishment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had known that the interior of the Panopticon was dimensionally transcendental, like TARDISes, but that knowledge had not prepared her for the sheer scale of the room she now stood in. The door thumped shut behind her, and Rassilon rested one hand on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is an impressive feat of architecture, is it not?” Roda could only nod silently. “The result of decades of work, and the seat of Time Lord power.” Patting her shoulder he stepped around Roda into the dark room, waving his hand at something that apparently turned up the lights. Roda craned her neck upwards, and found that she couldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>the ceiling. We’re those… clouds? “Since the cessation of the Dark Ages it is here that our people have created laws, passed judgement and shaped the universe itself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a grand room. There was no denying that. The six-sided opening chamber was made of a translucent turquoise material that Roda didn’t recognize, and was beautifully catching the light of the sunny day outside. But for some reason, it felt like the kind of beauty you found on a toxic animal, warning her to stay away. The glow thrummed around her as though the room itself was passing judgement, and Roda felt her hearts race with a strange exhilaration. The walls and carvings  were all sharp angles that she would have sworn could draw blood if she accidentally touched them. They glinted as she passed, closing in on her despite the scale of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are we here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Rassilon didn’t seem to have heard her. His mind was evidently elsewhere, and Roda noticed he was stroking his jaw thoughtfully as he studied the chamber. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion; that look usually meant that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>up </span>
  </em>
  <span>to something. Or about to do something that he - if no one else (namely, Roda) - was convinced was a very wise idea. Or maybe the room was just making her nervous, again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your dedication to your studies in the last decades has been commendable,” said Rassilon finally, clasping his staff with both hands as he faced her again. It clicked against the floor like the claws of an unseen beast. “Most of your Professors have reported an increase in your attentiveness as of late,” Roda took that to mean ‘except Borusa’, “and I am not unaware that Perigraphaltas has continued to be a good influence on your sense of discipline.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Roda pulled an unsure face, caught between pride and confusion. “Thanks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also know that you have taken my advice to keep your temper in check to hearts, and there have been no more… incidents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No more fights with Selesion or trips to the badlands, he meant, and no more trips to the Library roof. That he knew of, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been busy…”</span>
</p><p><span>“You have been </span><em><span>focused</span></em><span>,” Rassilon corrected her, with vigour. “As I said you <em>could</em></span> <span>be, were you only to accept responsibility for your position and apply yourself.”</span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I still fail to see why I should prove that to you’</span>
  </em>
  <span> seemed like the wrong thing to say and so instead, Roda looked Rassilon in the eye, maintaining the shields on her mind as best she could. She clasped her hands behind her back, searching for the right answer to give.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I intend to pass the remainder of my exams the first time around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I am sure you shall. Though I will admit, for a time I had my doubts.” Rassilon laughed, not sharing whatever his joke was with his ward. Roda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Regardless, you have proven me wrong and I am a man of my word. I have great plans for you, Rodageitmososa, and your drive to correct your… flaws,” Roda pursed her lips, “has shown me that you can be trusted to achieve them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three thoughts came to Roda at once; none of them entirely reassuring. First, that Rassilon was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>determined that she follow the path he had decided for her. There had been a time that she would have leapt at the chance to finally have it explained to her, and to live up to his expectations and do him proud. To feel important, and irreplaceable. That time had long since passed. All she wanted to be was the person </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>decided upon, and after their talk years ago she had assumed that he would never deem her worthy and she would get that wish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Second, that there was nothing her guardian did just for the Skaro of it. And so his decision to finally let her in on his great, ineffable secret inside the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Panopticon </span>
  </em>
  <span>was probably relevant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant fed into the final illuminating realization; he wanted her to remain on Gallifrey. Perhaps for the rest of her lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With respect, Lord Rassilon…” Roda began, choosing her words carefully. She saw his lips tighten, and concern briefly flash across his eyes. No, not concern; suspicion. He knew that she rarely called him </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lord</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore, unless she wanted something or was hiding something. “Last time we spoke about…” she waved a hand, only faintly aware that she had mirrored his own gesture, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you told me that I was unsuitable. I don't think I've changed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet as I challenged you to do so,” said Rassilon triumphantly, closing the distance between them with a flame in his eyes, “you have undone <em>both</em> of our expectations. Humility is noble, but taking pride in your achievements is also natural. Which is why I have decided to include you in my designs </span>
  <em>
    <span>now,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so that you may prepare yourself for them and be proud of who and <em>what </em>you are.” Before he continued Rassilon began to stride deeper into the Panopticon. Gathering her thoughts, Roda jogged to catch up with him. “You are aware, of course, that your mother held a position in the Council?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, recognizing a lost cause when she saw one. There was no sense in trying to argue with him </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Later, if she was lucky. And foolish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve mentioned it. My father did, too.” It seemed like a good idea not to bring up the fact that the last people who had told her about her mother had been Odell and Sax. She didn’t trust herself not to make life difficult for them if she mentioned them by name, and if Rassilon sensed there was something he hadn’t been told - or worked out that they weren’t Time Lords. “She reached her final regeneration before I was loomed, though, and died before... before my father did. I don’t remember her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was regretful that she was not able to raise you. And that she did not decide to have a child when she was younger. She was an inspired and disciplined Time Lady - even Lord Borusa respected her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda’s jaw dropped. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Borusa</span>
  </em>
  <span> liked my mother?” Now that Rassilon brought it up, his digs </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>always at her father’s expense. For all that she was apparently liked and respected, people rarely spoke of her mother. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably because I’m apparently nothing like her. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. She was a shrewd diplomat, and pleasant to work with. Both capable of listening and obeying, and strong-willed enough to raise her voice when the need called for it.” He smirked. “Which is more than can be said for certain other Council members.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon came to a halt in front of a pair of short, branching corridors; one, Roda knew, must lead to the courtroom while another presumably led to the chamber where the Council met. The Lord President gestured down the latter with his staff, bidding Roda to go ahead of him once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you telling me all this?” asked Roda, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it not obvious yet, Rodageitmososa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda stopped in front of the chamber doors, raising an eyebrow as Rassilon keyed something into a panel on the wall once again. The door slid to the side with a pneumatic hiss, and the lights flickered on to illuminate a heavy, hexagonal table in the centre of a pristine room. Roda stepped over the threshold obediently, taking it in. Like the last room, it too was cool and teal, but without the high ceiling or the glass roof it seemed smaller, more claustrophobic. High-backed chairs sat around the table, with bleacher-like seats against the wall that the door was on, towering over them both. Opposite the door, on the far side of the table, was a larger chair that she immediately guessed had to be Rassilon’s. But as he stepped past her, smoothing back his hair and getting straight to business, it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>chair that he stopped at. Instead, he stood behind another, hands on the back of it, with a pleased look on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda knew what he was about to say a second before he said it. Clarity hit her like a brick to the face, and her blood ran cold. No. No </span>
  <em>
    <span>way.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had studied as hard as she had - kept her mouth shut in the face of Selesion and Borusa and even Rassilon - on the promise that she would get to leave one day. See the universe, find Robin Hood, and live her own life. For years, she had begged for this guidance and a sense of purpose and now that she was being trusted with it it was stale in her mouth. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>what she wanted. It hadn’t been what she wanted, not for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She froze up, reading the circular carving in the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dahlesquintelias…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda whispered the name under her breath, followed by a quiet, impassioned curse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon was either oblivious, or did not care. With a broad smile, he drew back the chair and featured for Roda to sit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I intend for you to take her seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda lifted her head from her hand to shoot Peri a withering glare, at a loss as to how he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile at the news. Tearing into a piece of fruit like a woman possessed, she shook her head in disbelief and did her best not to raise her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants me to be on the Council?! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Roda wiped the purple juice from her mouth with the back of her hand, still as shocked as Peri was excited. “Roda-‘wilful and disobedient and an endangerment to herself’-geitmososa? What is he </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri stared across the table at Roda, disbelief evident on his face. Between them sat what would have been a mouthwatering platter of fruit and pastries and juice, under better circumstances. Roda was eating - and eating practically enough for both of them - half out of frustration and stress and half out of a desperate and unsuccessful attempt to have a normal day after the bomb that a Rassilon had dropped on her the afternoon before. She hadn’t wanted to miss the brunch with Peri - it was one of the few days he’d had off in a while, and though Bren had helped her work through her feelings, she still missed hanging out with him - but her mind was elsewhere. She had barely made it to the table before blurting out the news… but she hadn’t expected his response to be so positive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But this is…” Peri ran a hand through his hair, eyes still wide with astonishment. The food he had piled onto his plate was completely ignored, but he was still holding his fork, jabbing thoughtfully at the air. “Roda, don’t you realize how brilliant an opportunity this is? Think of what you could achieve with a seat on the Council - and straight out of the Academy! In your first life!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda wrinkled her nose, a hundred arguments ready to go. She hadn’t been able to say any of them to Rassilon yesterday; instead she had stood numbly in the doorway until he had bade her to sit, and sat in silence as he had detailed his expectations for her. To Rassilon, the gift of a seat was a great honour, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>favour </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he was doing for her and Roda supposed that if pressed, she could see that it was. But how could he possibly have believed that it was the right path for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>to follow? And how could he possibly believe that she would be happy about it? But the tafelshrew had got her tongue, and she hadn’t said any of that to him when she had the chance. And now, if she told him that she didn’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it then she would just start a fight - one that they might not be able to recover from. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trapped. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s what she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had thought that Peri of all people - who knew her better than anyone else on Gallifrey - would understand. But she had forgotten that he was a better Time Lord than she could ever be. He relished the responsibilities that had been drilled into them since they were Tots, and when he had been told the path his life was to take he had nodded and smiled and been genuinely grateful. To him, it meant being accepted into and creating their society… but he hadn’t met the shobogans. He hadn’t been lied to. Instead, he had been raised by two mothers who had watched him grow and known his interests and ensured that the direction they turned him in was one that he could thrive in. Roda, on the other hand, was left wondering if any of Rassilon’s kindness had ever been genuine, or if it was all just a ploy to put his pawn in the Council from the day he had learned about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to achieve anything!” It wasn’t quite true, but Roda couldn’t quite think, either. She didn’t want to achieve </span>
  <em>
    <span>those </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorts of things. The Time Lady stuffed another piece of fruit in her mouth, chewing furiously while she searched for the right words. When had Peri stopped knowing what she said before she said it? “I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>but the Council is out-dated and- and stifling. Selesion’s father has a seat, for Omega’s sake! I’ll have to deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>rat-weasel. And Rassilon thinks I’ll sit and debate with the rest of them, and smile and nod and fall into line and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’ll hate it. I already hate it. The system is broken, Peri, I</span>
  <em>
    <span> can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a part of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she started talking, the words didn’t stop. Years of built-up resentment poured out of her mouth like a raging waterfall. Sensing - at last - that she was beginning to properly lose her temper, Peri put down his fork and reached over the table to clasp the back of her hand. In a way that once upon a time had been soothing, he stroked it with his thumb, smiling cluelessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you see, though?” It was the voice that he reserved for his patients. Calm, clinical, knowing. Roda narrowed her eyes, picking up on the same subtle ways that Rassilon would so often talk to her. As though he needed to speak slowly and clearly to keep her calm, or because she was stupid. She knew Peri didn’t mean it… not really. But was he just becoming another Time Lord, as opposed to her closest and oldest friend? “Your hearts are more than in the right place, Roda.” She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be comforted, but instead Roda cast her eyes elsewhere. “You could make things </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just one Time Lady,” she argued, eyes flashing. “I can’t make those sorts of decisions without support. I’d be the youngest Time Lady there; no one will listen to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You know as well as I do that Rassilon would expect me to back him on any policy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when have you ever done what Lord Rassilon wants you to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pouted. “This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s not, Roda.” Peri lowered his voice, all matter of fact. “You have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>chance</span>
  </em>
  <span> here to change what you… what you hate about Gallifrey, and you want to throw it away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t let me say no,” Roda pointed out darkly, “and he certainly won’t let me break Prydonian lines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There weren’t politics on Gallifrey, not strictly speaking. So far as Roda could see throughout history, every member of the council tended to agree with whatever the President said. But there were times when the needs of one Chapter supplanted the needs of another, and that was when it got dicey. Roda, as a Prydonian, would be expected to do what was best for </span>
  <em>
    <span>them </span>
  </em>
  <span>whether she felt it was most important or not; especially since the head of her chapter was, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>the President. And so far as she was concerned no one in the Citadel needed any sort of leg up with it without her vote. She didn’t need to pay attention in class to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What Lord Rassilon wants, Lord Rassilon </span>
  <em>
    <span>gets.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She sighed, pulling her hand away as Peri tried to argue. A frazzled sound followed, utterly wordless. “And besides, what if I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be a politician? You know I slept through half those lectures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I know you pay attention to what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Roda pulled a face; if only he knew whose company she kept, he might say otherwise. “You’ve been going on about that - that robbing dude since we were Tots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Robin Hood,” she couldn’t help but laugh, but the response was strained. Bitter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>would not be in this position. There had been something in one of her books about him holding a corrupt King at the point of a sword, simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>commanding </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to sign a treaty to help the people of his planet. Or… Chapter? District? It hadn’t been entirely clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!” Realizing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, Roda shoved fruit into her mouth and chewed it aggressively. More to stop herself from arguing with Peri, than anything else. She had by some miracle avoided an argument with her guardian; she would rather not have one with her ex boyfriend, instead. “Isn’t his whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>righting wrongs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” snorted Roda, through a mouthful of berries. She felt as though she’d scarcely eaten so much in her life, and that her body was subconsciously trying to tell her to shut up. But her mouth wasn’t getting the memo. Peri looked at her as though she was barely coherent - which she probably wasn’t - or as though she had stopped speaking Gallifreyan. “Because stealing from the Council to feed the shobogans will go down </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>well. Let me just run that idea by Raz, see how he feels about welcoming the rebels in with open arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you - shobogans? What do they have to do with anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda waved dismissively. “S’just an example,” she lied vaguely, “rich and poor. Better off and not. I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> think Gallifrey is just fine,” her tone became snippy, for a second, “but the whole point is helping people who aren’t immortal time-travelling aristocracy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not immortal,” pointed out Peri. Roda glared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, so that’s the bit you’re complaining about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just…” Peri pinched the bridge of his nose, as he tried to change the subject. “Forgot about shobogans, and Robin Rood-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hood.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And listen to me. When have I steered you wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I hadn’t listened to you I’d be halfway to Sol-3 by now,” muttered Roda, sorely wishing (not for the first time) that she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who else in the universe could put on a brunch like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that really relev-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right. No one. Look, Roda.” Peri clasped both of her hands in hers, and gave her one of the smiles that would have melted her hearts once upon a time. “Anyone else would </span>
  <em>
    <span>leap </span>
  </em>
  <span>at this opportunity. Is it so crazy to think </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are the one getting it for a reason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess you’re right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda smiled, but her hearts weren’t in it. It was just that if she continued to argue, she knew she was going to raise her voice. And she didn’t want to shout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no getting out of this - this </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Peri was right; but if any other Time Lord would want the chance she was getting, then they could have it. She sure as Skaro didn’t want it. All it meant was it would tie her down. Perhaps it wasn’t a ball and chain, shackling her to the red grass of Gallifrey with no hope of reprieve, but it was a short leash. A sentence. Even if she did get to travel, she would have to attend meetings, sit in court, all of the sorry mess of being - and she suppressed a shudder - a politician. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she had walked to Peri’s quarters she had hoped that perhaps he would have some idea of how to get her out of it. But he was just as deluded as Rassilon was, and she supposed they had changed, both of them. They weren’t quite on the same wavelength anymore, even if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>still friends. And maybe they had never been. Entirely on the same wavelength, that was.</span>
</p><p><span>She shook her head, half paying attention as Peri talked about everything being on the Council meant, and then about his latest studies, and then about the weather. She interjected when she was supposed to, and ate at a more civilized speed, and it seemed to do the trick. She found random things to talk about and told him how good the brunch was, as usual, and forced herself to put up the usual joking disgruntlement when he brought up the upcoming exams. But her thoughts lingered on the inevitability of a hated future, and the meal became an act. Peri would be happy as a doctor, as a scientist. But she would never be happy in her role. She would have to join the Council, take her mother’s seat and be utterly useless. Either a pawn, or an embarrassment - worse, be branded a</span> <span>rebel</span> <span>if she spoke her mind. Even a </span><em><span>renegade</span></em><span>.</span></p><p>
  <span>There was no use dwelling on it, and yet it was all she could do. The meal tasted like sand, and her future was slipping through her fingers like grains of the same. Peri excused himself to take a call from a colleague, and finally she let her head rest on the table and groaned. Maybe she could convince Rassilon to let her take some sort of time away, before he condemned her. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>fun. Find Robin Hood, and get what was clearly some sort of pipe dream or misunderstanding out of her system while she could. Or maybe she </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>just run away, here and now. Only Rassilon would be put out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, he would be a very powerful enemy to make.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Roda lifted her head from the table and wiped the dampness from her eyes and poured herself a tall glass of nothing in particular. She sipped at it anxiously, willing herself to manage a smile when Peri returned. After all, she was going to have to get very good at hiding her feelings. Might as well start now...</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“I've done the best I could<br/>But I've always known just where we stood:<br/>Me here with the luckless,<br/>You there with the blessed.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “Crossing the Line”, Tangled: The Series</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Six years later…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurred to Roda - a couple of seconds too late - that throwing her collar at Lord Rassilon was about as far from ‘diplomatic’ as it was possible for her to behave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a couple of seconds where she thought, perhaps, that she might have gotten away with it. Rassilon had ducked, and the pointy bits of the collar hadn’t hit him in the face. (Bren was right; she really </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>aim for shit.) Right now, the President was staring at the piece of clothing on the floor as though it had sprung out of the time vortex out of nowhere, which she supposed probably made about as much sense to his idea of what was and wasn’t proper as the idea of someone throwing something at him did in the first place. He wasn’t looking at her, and as Roda caught her breath and gathered her thoughts she entertained the idea that now might be a very good time to run, and deal with the consequences later. Because the final thing that dawned on her - in the eternity of a second or two where all Skaro hadn’t broken loose - was that she had just done something very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had begun with speaking up out of turn. She usually kept her mouth shut through the majority of council meetings; waiting until somebody called upon her for her opinion, which was typically a slightly reworded version of Rassilon’s opinion whether it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>hers or not. Today, though, the topic had been too close to home for her to toe the Chapter line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the past few months, Castellan Temia had been ruthless in his pursuit of the shobogan rebels. His pursuit, and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>hunt</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sax, Odell, Bren and the others getting away those years ago had taken its toll on his reputation and his pride, and there had been calls for his resignation from within those circles of Gallifreyan nobility with a particular hatred towards the shobogans. People who believed that the native Gallifreyans were a mark on the good name of the Time Lords. Roda - who had been feeding Bren warnings throughout those months and had been forced to privately concede that perhaps there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bonus to her being in the Council - was not one of those people. Though both her seat and her status, technically, as the custodian of the Prydonian Library put her within the nobility of Gallifrey, she hated it. Hated their prejudice, and their ego. But most of the people who sat in the council with her </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>those kinds of bastards. And she had bitten her tongue long enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or we could give them our excess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence befell the council chambers as all eyes turned on its youngest member. Kithriarch Quences of Lungbarrow paused in the middle of a vitriolic sentence about racial purity with one hand in the air and affixed Roda with a look of such venom that she almost wanted to laugh. And it </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>have been comical, under any other circumstances. He looked like a fish caught out of water, his mouth agape and his eyes boggling. But nobody else was laughing. Nobody else would have interrupted him in the middle of a speech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not an important Lord, all things considered. The House of Lungbarrow - though influential - had faltered in recent years. Under Quences’ command they had produced little more than custodians and clerks, but they had held a seat on the Council since time immemorial and his line went back far, far further than Roda’s own. She knew that Rassilon held him in some regard, if not the highest, and that when he spoke, people were expected to listen. She also knew that when a member of her own Chapter had something to contribute to a debate in the Council, she was typically expected to not and agree, with a general air of ‘hear hear, what wisdom’. But Roda had never been especially good at keeping her mouth shut, especially when it mattered, and she’d somehow managed a six year streak of not putting her foot in it. Apparently it had been only a matter of time before that changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Quences finally found it in himself to shut his mouth, he didn’t start talking again. Roda sat in her mother’s chair, silently begging it to swallow her whole, as the Council waited for her to add something more to her untimely interruption. Clearing her throat - and against her better judgement - she did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord - Lord Quences makes the claim,” she began, trying to be respectful - for all the good it would do </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “that the rebels invade our territory in search of greater resources, and that in order to curb their… enthusiasm,” his words, not her own, “we should cut down and produce only as much as we need. But that’s just… stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A murmur passed around the table, within which Roda could only catch the occasional word. ‘Inconceivable.’ ‘Too forward.’ ‘Inexperienced.’ She bit her tongue with difficulty, hoping that the conversation could just move on with her interruption ignored. But the Scendelesion delegate across the table had other ideas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so you would have us waste our energy on supplying </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrorists</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the means with which to devastate our lands?” Selesion’s father - whose name Roda could never quite remember - scoffed. “Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>what the latest generation of Prydonians believe in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” declared Rassilon, firmly, “Perhaps the representative of the House of Meyeroderon is simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>confused</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said it with an air of finality, his eyes cutting cauterized holes in Roda as he silently commanded her not to speak </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was not a suggestion, though he phrased it as one, ever the politician, ever thinking of appearance. His mouth was a tight smile, reassuring the Council that this was but a blip in an otherwise rehearsed and scripted meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” Roda began, her mouth running away once more, unable to take the hint, “if they’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry </span>
  </em>
  <span>isn’t it our responsibility as Time Lords to provide for the people of Gallifrey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The rebel shobogans have made it clear that they do not count themselves amongst our ranks,” protested Quences, with a sneer. Roda glared at him, thinking of the friends he was insulting. “As such I for one see no reason why we should consider them our burden to bear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the Lords and Ladies around the table raised hands or voices in agreement. Roda made a fist, pushing herself to her feet and slamming back her chair. The murmuring began anew, this time with sideways glances at Rassilon. The idea that he was somehow to be her </span>
  <em>
    <span>keeper </span>
  </em>
  <span>only fueled Roda’s frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t we better than that?” She snapped, furious. “Aren’t we Lords and Ladies? Aren’t we at the helm,” she stressed, fishing for words, “of greater acts than starving an army that is already losing the war? Or was all that talk at the Academy about how we’re better and smarter than everyone else just a load of-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>silent</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Rodageitmososa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda sat down, and studied her knees. She was faintly aware of Rassilon inviting Quences to continue making his point, but she ignored him, stewing in her own thoughts. The talks went on, and she didn’t open her mouth again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>finished</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon’s voice was quiet; so quiet that Roda almost didn’t hear him. She stood in the council chamber of the Panopticon, chest heaving, her tantrum dissipating. Rassilon had called an end to the proceedings not long after her outburst, but with a single word he had stopped her before she could slink away with her metaphorical tail between her legs. Now, she felt as though she was faced with a predator. Hushed. Waiting. Ready to strike. The controlled anger was the worst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without saying a word, she crouched down, retrieving her collar from where it had thudded against a wall. She stayed small, still, tucking it under one arm as she pulled herself to her feet. There were no words to say, at least none that she thought would make things better. Or rather… there were plenty of words she could say, but they would all be kowtowing and at the moment, she had the feeling Rassilon would tell a lie coming a mile off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he didn’t speak; simply waited for her to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda took a few deep breaths, contemplating the many levels to which she had messed up. She had shouted at Rassilon. She had thrown something at him. She had embarrassed him in the middle of the council. She had spoken up for the shobogans. She had spoken out of turn.  At least one of those things was something to be proud of, in her books, but there was no way that the President was going to agree; and she had no idea which one she was supposed to begin apologising for </span>
  <em>
    <span>first</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t happen again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t happen again…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still angry and still self-conscious herself, Roda nodded, carefully taking a step backwards and away from Rassilon. When he didn’t react to the first she took another, glancing quickly over her shoulder to see how close she was to the door. Maybe she just had to leave and let him… cool off? Calm down? Maybe this would all boil over if she just stayed inside of the Library for a couple of days and let Rassilon take his temper out in his workshop instead of on her. She could come back in a couple of days, apologise gratuitously - whether she felt like it or not - and hope that she hadn’t blown a hole in their somewhat stable peace forever. It wasn’t as though she had ever appreciated the position he had put her in when he’d ‘gifted’ her the seat, nor that she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>with the life she was forced to lead… but it was easier than Rassilon’s anger. Keeping her opinions to herself in the future was the easiest way to make sure that this </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t… happen… again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Roda swallowed, just inches from the door. She nodded again, keeping her head bowed, playing the subservient ward and citizen and hating every second of it. “Yes. Just… forget what I said. It was careless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her foot hit the open doorway just as Rassilon’s gauntletted hand slammed into the keypad on the wall, mere inches from her head. Roda flinched, pulling her foot back just in time to stop her heel from getting trapped in the closing door. She turned to stare at it, mouth opening and shutting in surprise, and missed the hand that grabbed her arm and spun her around as though she weighed nothing at all. The breath rushed out of her lungs as Rassilon slammed her against the door, the collar bouncing off her leg and rolling across the floor once again. He pinned her in place with one hand on her shoulder, and beside her the gauntlet on the wall glowed an unnerving shade of blue that made her want to close her eyes against the glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey - wait a-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Careless</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Rassilon narrowed his eyes, practically spitting in Roda’s face. “What you did was not simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>careless</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Rodageitmososa. It was disobedient. It was insulting. And it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda’s eyes flashed as she gripped Rassilon’s forearm, subconsciously trying to tear it away from her. “What are you - let </span>
  <em>
    <span>go </span>
  </em>
  <span>of me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glove flashed again, and knowing full well what it was capable of doing Roda couldn’t help but flinch. He wouldn’t use it on her… would he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careless is a mistake. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>have never minced your words.” Gone was the President, gone was the politician, gone was the guardian. In his place was the commander. The man who could start and </span>
  <em>
    <span>finish </span>
  </em>
  <span>wars. “You embarrassed me in the Council today, Rodageitmososa. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>directly </span>
  </em>
  <span>opposed me on matters that I thought even </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>would find simple enough to grasp and you did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>know your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurting </span>
  </em>
  <span>me..!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon ignored her  complaints. “I cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>begin </span>
  </em>
  <span>to understand your motive in defying me. Was it simply to make a fool of me?” Though his tone was cold and threatening, Roda could tell that he was legitimately unsure, which meant that at least he had no idea the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason she had spoken up. “I would have thought that you of all people would have no love for the terrorists who led to your father’s untimely demise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words spilled out of her mouth in a snarl before she even knew what she was saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if Temia was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What if they did nothing wrong - what if they just need our </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>questioning </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?” The grip on her shoulder let up, only for Rassilon’s hand to snap instead to her throat, forcing her to stand on her toes. Roda’s eyes widened in alarm, and she groped blindly for the controls on the wall that would unlock the door. The ones that her once upon a time guardian’s glove was still resting atop. “Lord Rassilon the Great, </span>
  <em>
    <span>founder </span>
  </em>
  <span>of your society?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m - I’m questioning the Castellan!” Roda managed to choke out; somehow angrier than she was alarmed. She knew - or rather, a little voice at the back of her mind - was telling her that she was in danger, and that she had never pushed Raz so far as to choke her before. It should have terrified her, but she was full of rage and vinegar. Instead she clawed at his knuckles, trying to prise open his grip and stay on her feet. “I just think he made a mistake! Should we at least make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Castellan works on </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>orders,” stressed Rassilon, punctuating his words with a squeeze of his hand. Roda gasped, still trying to get her fingers underneath his, but he didn’t even seem to have to put up a fight to stop her. If anything, he simply lifted his hand higher, and one of her feet left the ground as she scrambled to keep breathing. “And regardless of your opinion of my policy decisions, your </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignorance </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the matter not only demeans yourself but also the entire Prydonian Chapter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chapter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda pushed at Rassilon’s gauntlet as she tried to find the emergency unlock for the room, or to somehow find the keys she had to press to open it. Her other hand held onto his wrist as she struggled to maintain her balance, and as she felt the blood to her head thin, her anger increased. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should have aimed the collar for his fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have any fucking idea what I know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lord President</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she growled, eyes darkening. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>ignorant, you just don’t pay attention to anything outside of what </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to be true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I alone,” snapped Rassilon, finally raising his voice, “know what is best for our people! I will not be spoken down to by a rebellious child who has never learned her place!” He drew back his hand with the gauntlet threateningly, and it was all that Roda could do not to close her eyes and turn away. She felt her fingers glide across the keypad and tried to keep his attention on her face, instead of her hand. “Every chance you have had in life I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>graciously </span>
  </em>
  <span>given you and yet time and time again you repay my patronage with ingratitude and selfishness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Selfishness</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!” Roda scoffed, reduced to pressing buttons at random. “I have always - </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>danced to your-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scarcely a year has gone by where you have not created some fictitious-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I have tried and tried and </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried </span>
  </em>
  <span>to live up to your expectations for me! </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>put me in this position, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>stole my future from me and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>decided who you thought I was.” She heard the door click unlocked as if from a great distance, and slammed her fist down on the panel even as they continued to shout over one another. His words, his rebuttal, fell on deaf ears. “I’ve had </span>
  <em>
    <span>enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The President stumbled as the door slid open behind them, his arm lurching upwards as he caught himself. Roda’s feet left the ground once and for all and her face went red as she kicked and squirmed to be free. A part of her still believed that this was a nightmare. That no matter what she had said or what she had done, the man who had raised her would not do </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Would not choke her, bruise her and intimidate her. But she also knew that something had changed, today, and that this was not a dream. This was a point of no return. For all of her disagreements with him - all of the times she had disappointed him, or he had chastised her for something outside of her control - she had never felt fear or anger on a scale like this. A bubbling hatred from the sinking feeling in her gut that everything she had known in her life had been a betrayal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A memory not yet happened flashed across her mind, from the game of Eighth Man Bound. Of choking, of pain, of suffocation. Helplessness. She wished that someone remained in the corridor who would </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>her what the Lord President was doing to his once-ward, that there was someone who would step in and help her. And then her toes finally collided with the underside of Lord Rassilon’s collar - the sensitive place where his clavicle was unprotected - and Roda landed hard on the turquoise ground with a thud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glared at Rassilon, </span>
  <em>
    <span>daring </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to touch her again. He looked down on her as he rubbed his chest with a faint grimace of pain, before his eyes widened, just for a moment, in shock and horror. He took a step away from her, but to Roda it still felt as though he was looming over her. He looked at his glowing gauntlet, and the bare hand that had just been wrapped around her throat. And then he looked at her with an expression that Roda had never seen before, and could not begin to read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go home, Rodageitmososa. We are done, here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda made a fist once more, rolling onto her haunches to catch her breath. Her eyes were wide with disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, is it?” she said, barely louder than a whisper. Rassilon set his jaw. “Three hundred years of grooming me to be the tool you wanted, and as soon as I have an opinion of my own you throw me away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon said nothing. Getting to her feet, Roda turned and walked away.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Up next is a missing scene, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713218/chapters/67851451">Deus in Absentia</a>. Not necessary to the plot, but takes place immediately post this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"... because we think the gods are saving him up for a really big death. Something with knives and hot irons ..."<br/>"... and fifty thousand cheering spectators.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “The Lies of Locke Lamora”, Scott Lynch</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As soon as she was free of the Panopticon, Roda broke into a run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t stop to let people pass, and didn’t care that people were staring. Although she paid some attention to ducking and weaving out of the way of other Time Lords in the streets, all she cared about was getting as far away from Rassilon as possible, and heading for the TARDIS docks. Whispers and thoughts hounded her as she pushed through students with arms full of books, Council members heading back to their Chapter sectors, and people that she hardly registered. None of them mattered to her, not right now. If she had her way, nobody in the Citadel would ever matter to her </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a long run from the Panopticon to the docks, but it felt like a decade. The end destination seemed to be further away every time she looked up and tried to take her bearings. Her throat was burning, and she could already feel a necklace of bruises beginning to rise; a bitter reminder of what Rassilon had done. But it was his words that hurt the most. Biting down anger and regret, Roda wiped tears from her eyes and kept on moving. She willed her mind not to focus on the fact that the one stability in her entire life had turned out to be a lie after all. She did her best not to think about the fact that the man she had once, at the back of her mind, considered a second father had turned on her for speaking her mind. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried…</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she failed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disappointment. Always a disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>                          Embarrassment. That had been a new one; more cutting than the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>                                                    Careless. It wasn’t that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>care. He’d seemed to understand that, once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>                                                                              Ignorant. She read, and she learned, and she needed to know the truth. And still, he lied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>                                                                                                       Willful. Reckless. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Disobedient.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. If he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>a disobedient child, then he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving Gallifrey had been a long time coming, and she couldn’t get off-planet fast enough. In fact, the more she thought about it the more she knew she shouldn’t even have waited for graduation. If only Peri hadn’t talked her out of it. If only she hadn’t convinced herself that being on the Council wouldn’t be as bad as she feared. If only she hadn’t thought it could get better. If only, if only, if only… Rassilon thought that she had been making mistakes all her life, but in Roda’s eyes the only mistake had been caring about his opinion and expectations for as long as she had. Now, though, she had a TARDIS and full titles as a Time Lady and no reason why she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to remain on Gallifrey. There was nobody who would miss her, no gap she would leave that could not be filled by someone else, and no reasons to stay and make herself miserable. She might return, one day… but no time soon. And nobody was going to stop her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda only stopped running when the doors of the docks towered above her.  Great, carved, and majestic, they had once filled her with wonder but now they only got in her way. She hesitated just long enough to catch her breath, and then tore her ceremonial robes over her head and tossed them to the ground, letting them hit the crisp, clean ground in a crumpled, sweat-soaked heap. Beneath them she wore a light tunic and trousers, the legs rolled up, and she kicked at the air until the creased fabric came undone and landed on her ankles once again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There. That’ll do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>smartly</span>
  </em>
  <span> dressed, but it wasn’t unusual for someone working on a TARDIS or taking one for a flight to travel in lighter, more flexible clothing; and she would certainly stand out less like this than she would have in Council attire. Tugging at the leather keeping her hair out of her eyes she wrestled her curls loose and did her best to use them to cover the bruises. It wasn’t perfect… but unless someone looked at her closely, it would </span>
  <em>
    <span>do. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She would do. Just this once, nobody deserved perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept her head done as she walked into the docks, but people still noticed her. An engineer she had known for fifty years raised his hand and shouted a greeting, and through her teeth she forced herself to smile back. If nothing else, the clouded goggles on his head concealed the lie in her eyes, and he seemed satisfied as he turned back to whatever he had been working on. A few other people waved as she passed and Roda forced out terse pleasantries and excuses that she had been busy all day and was just a little tired, that was all, and by the time she was standing in front of her TARDIS nobody seemed thrown off by her sudden appearance at the docks at a time so out of sync with her usual schedule.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Releasing the stasis locks around her TARDIS, Roda allowed herself one small smile, resting her forehead against the cool metal of the original capsule and sighing. The TARDIS thrummed with concern, the metal becoming warm to the touch. Roda reached for the key hanging around her neck - something she carried on her, for no particular reason, but which had come in handy today - and gave an almost imperceptible groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>«</span>
  <em>
    <span>Problem?</span>
  </em>
  <span>»</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>«Not anymore,»</span>
  </em>
  <span> she replied, as honestly as she could manage. The key pressed against the locking panel, and Roda realised how much her palm still stung from trying to open the door in the Panopticon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>«Don’t worry about me.»</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The TARDIS made a noise that was somewhere between unease and kindness, but didn’t press the subject; even if Roda got the feeling it didn’t quite believe her. They were of one mind, had been for years. They understood one another, and understood when not to push. As she stepped into the console room it lit up around her, illuminating her in cozy scarlet hues that it had chosen itself. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Deep breaths, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it seemed to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re here now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>) She had never figured out why </span>
  <em>
    <span>red; </span>
  </em>
  <span>having ruled out that it wasn’t quite a Prydonian shade, nor one that she could remember ever having seen on Gallifrey before. But now it’s warmth felt like a blanket that wrapped around her, shielding her from the outside world. Roda would have relaxed more if she hadn’t still been so wound up, but instead she briskly crossed the room and tramped up the shallow ramp that led to the console. Lights and levers came to life as she approached, and Roda stood on her tiptoes to pull down a monitor displaying a sophisticated map of the side of Gallifrey they were on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t decided where she was going, yet. It wasn’t their first flight together, but it would be the first one solo. All of the test and examination runs had been done with professors and engineers in tow - the model she had grown favoured three pilots - and since graduation she had been all but grounded. She had found time to </span>
  <em>
    <span>visit</span>
  </em>
  <span> but never, ironically, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go </span>
  </em>
  <span>anywhere. But she had taken pains to make the console easier for just one person to man, and it felt more natural to be standing at the console alone. One hand ran over the globular SRC module on the console, installed </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>so that no one else would need to interfere with her and </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except of course, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>had involved someone’s meddling. The stranger - who had been conspicuously absent for long enough that she was beginning to wonder if he even existed - had given her </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>piece of equipment, and even though it had turned out he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it would stop the ship from exploding… the fact that he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to intervene sent a new spike of anger through her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>possessive </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the TARDIS (it was it’s own being, as well as a ship) but she had always felt connected to it, ever since it was just a coral. They were independent, together. They didn’t need anybody else, and it felt the same way. And she was certain that she was a good enough pilot and a good enough engineer that she wasn’t going to run into any serious problems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>«</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re leaving,</span>
  </em>
  <span>» she announced, powering the TARDIS up for flight, while her hearts still raced. Despite all her attempts to stay calm, the disaster in the Panoptican still rushed through her mind. The world spun around her. «</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t care where to.</span>
  </em>
  <span>»</span>
</p><p>
  <span>«</span>
  <em>
    <span>Careful?</span>
  </em>
  <span>»</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda rolled her eyes, gripping the console so hard that her knuckles turned white. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Not only careless…’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d show him careless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t care,” she snapped. “Anywhere but here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights on the console dimmed briefly, the console powering down. Roda forced herself to let go of the console and stretch her hands, reminding herself that it wasn’t fair to take her anger at Rassilon out on the TARDIS. As feeling came back to her fingers, she chastised herself for raising her voice. All the same, she couldn’t calm down. It felt as though her hearts would beat out of her chest, and she knew that her hands were shaking as she reached out and stroked the centre column in a silent apology. The TARDIS hesitated, making an undecidedly vague noise, before bringing the systems back online - the apology apparently accepted, for now. The map in front of Roda’s face flickered to life and expanded, zooming out to display the entire Kasterboros system, and she grinned as she jumped to attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knew you’d agree. Fuck Raz, fuck the Council,” once she began, she found she couldn’t stop. Her grin grew more manic. “Fuck doing what we’re told. Let’s go somewhere just because we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Just the two of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slipped a keyboard from a nook it was tucked into, typing in a random set of temporal-spatial coordinates. The map panned out even further until no celestial bodies could be made out, before zooming back in on a mess of temporal anomalies, gas and fragments of moon. She spun the monitor a full three hundred and sixty degrees with a laugh, showing off the display to the TARDIS interior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here! Right here! The stars won’t know what hit them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the second time in just a handful of hours, Roda found that she couldn’t breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t see the console for smoke, and she had no idea </span>
  <em>
    <span>why.</span>
  </em>
  <span> No idea in Omega’s name what had hit them and knocked them out of the vortex mid-flight. But the acrid smell of chemicals flooded her lungs, flashes of red and orange and gold licking the TARDIS controls, and it didn’t take a genius to know that something was very wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any care for herself, she yanked the neck of her tunic up over her face and began to crawl. There was something wrong with the gravitational balancing matrix, and the few times she had tried to pull herself to her feet she had simply gone head over heels back to the ground. She had a vague idea which way was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>up judging by where the light and the alarms were coming from, but her head was spinning and it was all that she could do not to throw up. The console. She had to get to the console. She could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>the TARDIS reaching out for her, just as alarmed as she was and if nothing else, she had to reassure it that everything was okay. Or at least, that they were going to get out of this. If she could just get to the console she could throw them into an emergency landing on the nearest stable planet, and just hope that whatever had hit them hadn’t broken </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting to the Medusa Cascade had seemed easy. Even angry, she had been careful to double and triple check the coordinates that had flagged up, surprised that in randomly keying in numbers she had managed to find one of the places she had always vowed to go. For a second, she had considered landing in Peri’s laboratory - materializing around him and taking him along for the ride, whether he liked it or not - but in the end, she had decided to go alone. They would only argue, he would only push her to know why she was doing something so reckless and stupid when she should have been in the Council, schmoozing and faking her way through an empty life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head as the TARDIS lurched once more. No. There was no time to dwell on what she should have done. She dug her fingers into the grating on the floor, ripping up access panels for something to hold onto. Her fingertips bled and her knees were scuffed, but she kept on dragging herself forward, reaching out for a familiar psychic signature even as she tried to keep her head below the smog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flight had started out steady. Calming. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>vworp vworp</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the brakes releasing soothed her nerves before they even left Gallifrey, and just taking off had been enough to remind Roda that the day’s troubles, too, would pass. For the first little while as she had hovered in neutral space over Gallifrey, running various tests and generally grounding herself with the procedure, it really felt as though things could get better. But only a few seconds after she had pulled the lever to enter the vortex - aiming for a date, she had read, where the Cascade would be especially active - something had buffeted them and thrown them off course. The first time it happened, she got the TARDIS under control muttering something about wild vortisaurs. The second time, however, they went into a spin and whatever button Roda managed to accidentally press had… not helped. That was when the alarms had started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another rumble of fire from the Pythia only knew where caused Roda to smack her head off the floor. As something wet dribbled down her forehead she shook herself off and held her breath. The gasp of pain had pulled a lot of the gas into her chest, and it ached, but she could run an analysis on both herself and the TARDIS later. For now, she had to get them both to safety. But as her fingertips grazed the base of the console and she swore with relief, the lights suddenly turned off and Roda’s whole world went into freefall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” she whispered, unable to believe what was happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thrust lifted her off the ground and she threw herself forward, forgetting all about not breathing in the smoke and grabbing frantically for the console. Her hand wrapped around the nearest handle and she pulled herself forward, hitting her head again and throwing out her hand for the center column. It was still. Not moving. Gasping with shock and pain she lurched her whole body forward, nauseous and dizzy and horrified. There was a pulse there. The TARDIS was still working. But it was hurt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She </span>
  </em>
  <span>had missed something in the vortex, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>it </span>
  </em>
  <span>was hurting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Careless. Ignorant. Reckless. Disobedient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed every button, turned every dial and threw back every lever, putting all of her energy into just holding on. Her mental doors were thrown wide, and she talked to the TARDIS as she worked, babbling morning in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not switch to respiratory bypass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still they tumbled. Roda only just managed to grip the monitor, tear-filled eyes struggling to focus on the readings and map as she tried to work out where they were. Close to the Medusa Cascade. Almost at the coordinates. But too close. Far too close for safety. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That must be where the gas is coming from, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought absently, and it was almost laughable. A loose vent, something not screwed down tight enough. She had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>the environment shield had been intact, but the impact must have blown it. It would all be so easy to fix, but not like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The circular High Gallifreyan swirled like oil in front of her eyes. Roda licked her lips, blinked a couple times too many, and yanked down hard on the emergency brake. And for a second, everything was still. The alarms all melted into one continuous noise, and the world didn’t seem to spin and it seemed like maybe, just maybe, she had managed to fix things. Bruised, bartered, bleeding and not quite broken Roda smiled a small smile, and allowed herself a moment of much-needed rest as she clung to the console. One leg was braced on the chair, another all-but hooked on a tightly-woven bundle of wires, and her arms were wrapped around the all-important lever as if her life depended on it. Her vision was clouded, but the TARDIS reached out for her quietly, reassuring her as much as she did it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two things happened at once. The world began to move again, and the front door of her TARDIS slammed open with a thunderous clatter. With the last of her energy Roda narrowed her eyes and glared at the doorway as someone tall, lithe and wearing a gas mask stepped over the threshold. She caught a glimpse of a red shirt, messy hair and strange swatches of blue, as the figure stumbled across the grating and stretched out gloved hands in her direction. It… couldn’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>him…</span>
  </em>
  <span>. surely? It had to be a hallucination. She was in the middle of time and space. No one could board a TARDIS in motion, surely, without knowing exactly where they were going to be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the last thought she had as the hand the figure had taken hold of began to burn and glow like a golden flame, her lungs gave in and everything went black. She dimly heard someone calling her name, felt somebody shake her and shout orders to an unseen figure. And then her TARDIS keened and groaned as someone else took hold of the controls and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pushed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands put her on the ground, a hot balm rushed up her arm and gripped her hearts, and Roda lost the fight with consciousness once and for all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Pain shared, my brother, is pain not doubled but halved. No man is an island.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “Anansi Boys”, Neil Gaiman</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Consciousness returned to Rodageitmososa with a whimper, not a bang.</p><p>She ached, all over, in a way that she hadn’t believed it was possible to ache before, and in places that she hadn’t known muscles existed. As she lay on her back in an unknown room on an unknown bed in an unknown location she tried to take stock of exactly <em> why </em>she was aching in unfamiliar places, and her mind came up blank. Instead she lay very, very still and contemplated the merits of banging her head off something very hard until she wasn’t conscious again, and dealing with whatever the problem was at some later, much more distant time and place.</p><p>There was, at least for now, an empty place in her memory. It was as if someone had unrolled a film reel, and neatly clipped anything that would make sense of her position. It would come back to her, she was sure, and probably not gently. For now she just wanted to keep her eyes closed, and try <em> not </em>to think. But the universe, of course, had other ideas.</p><p>She could hear people shuffling about her, going about their business; or at least, some sort of business. Two, three, four pairs of feet milling about, but trying to be quiet about it. In the distance, people were cheering and she could hear some kind of animal having some kind of a tantrum about whatever it was being told to do. But it was the nearby voices that had her attention. Although she hadn’t exactly been sure <em> what </em>to think about wherever she was, hearing Odell and Sax talking in hurried whispers was more than a little bit of a surprise. They hadn’t noticed that she was awake yet, and so she tried to listen to them talk.</p><p>“Don’t like it,” declared Sax, in his usual gruff, matter of fact voice. Roda bit her cheek to keep from snorting. His hearts were in the right place, but there was very little that he did like, and she had long suspected that the list began and ended with ‘his wife’. “What if they find out she’s here?”</p><p>Odell sighed. As Roda peeked at them with one half-open eye she saw her stroke her husband’s cheek with the back of her hand, leaning in to peck him lightly on the lips.</p><p>“They won’t. He said so.”</p><p>“And you trust <em> them </em>?”</p><p>“Well…” Odell pursed her lips. “They brought Meyer’s daughter here stinking of regenerative energy.” She paused, and Roda rummaged through her thoughts for a stray memory. ‘They’? ‘Regenerative energy’? Maybe she ached more than she realised. “Dunno if I <em> trust </em> them but <em> he </em>saved her life.”</p><p>Despite herself - despite doing her best to look still asleep - Roda frowned. Something was coming back to her, like the condensation on a window steadily dissipating to reveal more of the landscape. Now that she has been awake long enough, memory was reasserting itself and with it came anxiety, anger and… fear. She remembered what had happened, and had some idea of where she was. The shobogan camp, surely. But who could have thought to bring her <em> here </em>, and why? When?</p><p>She sat up ramrod straight when her recollection reached her TARDIS, and instantly regretted it. A blanket slipped off her torso, puddling in her lap, and she had no thought at all for modesty as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand. Odell was at her side in a second, a hand on her chest with a concerned expression on her face, but Roda weakly pushed her away. She blinked - letting her eyes adjust to the light - and licked her lips, and panted as she put her hands on her thighs.</p><p>“My - my TARDIS,” she began, more worried than she cared to admit by what the answer was going to be. “Is it-?”</p><p>“S’fine,” snapped Sax. “Parked behind the tents, scaring all the children.”</p><p>Odell was more gentle, picking strands of curly hair from Roda’s sweat-soaked forehead. “The one that brought you here, he said to tell you he patched it up.” She pursed her lips, shrugged, and then added: “and that he tweaked a few things.”</p><p>Momentarily shaken from her nerves Roda stared at Odell in horror, mouth agape. She tried to stand, decided she was too dizzy and slumped back to the bed, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. It, too, ached, but she ignored it in favour of a very important question mingled with the relief.</p><p>“Who did <em> what </em>to my TARDIS?!”</p><p>“Roda,” Odell tweaked her nose, scowling. “You keep that rump on that bed until I tell you you’re good at ready to get up. Your ship is fine.”</p><p>“I- but-“ How dare someone ‘tweak’ a few things on <em> her </em>ship?! She stared in disbelief. “He can’t - I don’t want anyone-“</p><p>“He saved your life,” said Odell, her tone firm. “I think you can repay that kindness by trusting him not to blow up your TARDIS.”</p><p>Roda opened her mouth to argue again, and then decided against it. She pinched the bridge of her nose instead, running over the events that had led her here in her mind. It was all still a bit of a blur. There had been the flight, and then the impacts and everything had gone wrong. Destabilized. She stroked her throat, surprised that while it was tender, nothing seemed to be damaged. All that smoke she had inhaled… hydrogen and helium from the nebula, mixed in with whatever had been leaking from the ship. No wonder it had burned. She was lucky she hadn’t suffered an embolism; or perhaps she had, and that was why she had passed out. Investigating her forehead she couldn’t feel a cut from whatever she had banged it off, and breathing came easily enough. Time Lords healed fast… but not <em> this </em>fast. Not without a Zero Room, or some help.</p><p>As she went to speak again - ask who had rescued her, and confirm a suspicion - she coughed hard. A small cloud of gold dust billowed around her hand, and her hearts almost stopped out of alarm. Eyes wide she held the hand up in front of her face and then grabbed at her arm; turning it over and looking at the colour of her skin before grabbing at her fringe. Sax and Odell looked between one another that might have said ‘she’s gone mad’ as Roda tugged a curl in front of her eyes and then recited a few lines of a poem she’d once known by heart, testing her voice.</p><p>“I didn’t regenerate…”</p><p>Sax huffed, folding his arms. “Could’a told you that. Still the same curly-haired beanstalk you’ve always been.”</p><p>“But there was regenerative energy…” Roda murmured, half to herself.</p><p>She looked at her hand again, turning it back and forward as though she was missing something. But it would be impossible to miss <em> that. </em> Which meant that - since the pain and the near crash has been very, terrifyingly real - since she hadn’t been in any fit way to heal herself, somebody else had used up their own life energy to keep her from regenerating or dying. Someone had to be either inconceivably stupid or care very much about your survival to waste something as precious as that on another person. Since that person seemed to have rescued her, fixed her TARDIS and left… it could only have been one other Time Lord.</p><p>“He could’ve cut <em> years </em> off his life…” she muttered to herself. Wrapping her arms around her midriff, she suddenly felt exceedingly guilty. It had been a <em> mistake </em> , sure. But then if she hadn’t decided to run away when she was upset and angry, she might not have gotten into an accident in the first place. “And I don’t even know who he <em> is. </em>” She looked up at Odell, chewing her lip. “Are they still here?”</p><p>Odell shook her head. “Him and the boy he was with,” Roda blinked, surprised, “dropped you off, had me take care of you and ran off soon as they were done with your TARDIS. Must’ve had one of their own.” She pulled a face. “Truth be told, the little one mostly sat on a rock and stared at the sky as if he’d never seen the suns before. Big guy knew what he was doing, far as I could tell.”</p><p>It was a mystery for later, Roda decided. She didn’t know that the stranger had a companion, or a child. Then again, it wasn’t as though she knew anything about him at all. </p><p>“So what were you doing to get yourself into trouble like that, girl?”</p><p>When Sax spoke up, Roda turned to glance at him and was caught off guard by the look on his face. Noticing her scrutiny he turned away, sniffing in feigned disdain, but she’d already seen the concern in his eyes. Despite everything, Roda smirked.</p><p>“Were you worried about me, Sax?”</p><p>“Don’t let it get to your head,” he snorted. “S’just Meyer’s have my head if he knew I let his little tot die.”</p><p>Roda made a show of throwing her arms in the air, a small smile on her face, unwilling to let the matter drop.</p><p>“I’m three hundred and five!”</p><p>“And you still only have two brain cells bouncing about in that head of yours!” snapped Sax, waving his hand dismissively. Roda began to argue again, eyes twinkling, but he shooed her quiet and turned away. “Quit your yapping. It’s not like I care or anything.”</p><p>With that, the shobogan disappeared out of the hut they were in, leaving Roda grinning stupidly and Odell struggling to hold in laughter. As the door shut they both surrendered the fight and started to giggle, and even though she had apparently almost died Roda couldn’t stop. Maybe that was <em> why </em>she couldn’t stop.</p><p>Eventually they both fell silent, and Odell hopped onto the end of Roda’s bed. She wiped a tear from her eye, and let slip one last chuckle and then looked at Roda with a motherly scrutiny that made her want to squirm away. Roda swallowed.</p><p>“Seriously, though. What <em> did </em>you do?”</p><p>She hadn’t meant to tell Odell everything, but she was difficult to lie to. Sitting up properly and putting her back to a wall - glad of her still sweat-soaked clothing, that was now dusty and had patches of an uncomfortable dried red on it - she explained what had happened in the Citadel, with no small feeling of guilt. She knew that if <em> she </em>had been angry by what had been talked about, Odell had cause to be furious. She knew, as well, that to talk about the inner dealings of the Council with a shobogan was probably some form of treason for which she could get into plenty of trouble, if anybody found out. But she also couldn’t find it in her to care, both on a personal and an exhausted level. It didn’t feel quite like a secret to keep from a friend.</p><p>If Odell was surprised that Roda had kept who her guardian was a secret all these years, she kept it to herself.</p><p>Odell didn’t ask many questions, but Roda found herself elaborating anyway. She spoke about her father, and listened to Odell tell stories about the years she had known him and her mother before Roda was even loomed. For the first time in her life she told someone how terrified she was that she had gone mad, looking into the Untempered Schism, and that she was never gone to come to anything at all. Odell stroked her hair and asked about Robin Hood and Roda rattled off every fact she had ever read about him like a woman who had found an ocean in a century of desert. And finally - in a quiet, child-like voice from inside her chest - Roda said what was really breaking her hearts.</p><p>“We were supposed to go <em> together </em> ,” she said with a sigh, tracing a name into the blanket on her knees. “I thought I wanted to be alone and free but it was never meant to be like <em> that. </em>”</p><p>Odell, wisely, did not ask who Roda meant, or how she had wanted the trip to the Medusa Cascade to have gone. Roda was grateful, and embarrassed, and ready to crawl back to bed with her tail between her legs. They both fell silent, and she looked around the small room she was sitting in. Odell and Sax weren’t about to throw her out, she knew that for certain, but she couldn’t hide here forever. But she didn’t want to go back to the Citadel yet, either. She couldn’t face Rassilon, or Quences, or even Peri, without all of the anger and resentment and pain boiling over again. If she could just <em> be </em>, for a spell, she knew it would simmer down and she could lock it all away again until it came in handy.</p><p>The shobogan broke the silence first, patting Roda’s knee and stretching before climbing off the edge of the bed. She looked through the open door once, knowingly, and then cleared her throat. Roda sat up straight, half expecting that she was about to be left alone or told off for some part of her admission of idiocy, but instead Odell called out the door.</p><p>“Are you going to lurk out there all morning, Bren, or do I have to drag you in by your ear?”</p><p>As Bren stuck his head around the door sheepishly, his blush was only rivalled by Roda’s. He gave her a toothy grin from underneath what looked suspiciously like a recently broken nose and an accompanying black eye, and then his gaze flicked over to Odell.</p><p>“How’d you know I was here?”</p><p>Odell laughed. “Heard someone pacing outside for the last half hour. Had to be either you, or Tillie.”</p><p>“Tillie’s with Ellan.” A beat. “Cooking.”</p><p>The older shobogan woman paled, and looked at the door again. And then she swore, and ran off, leaving Bren and Roda alone. Roda watched her sandals disappear around the corner and then tilted her head to one side, looking at Bren questioningly.</p><p>“What was <em> that </em>about?”</p><p>“Last time the two of them cooked anything they set fire to the kitchen,” chuckled Bren. “Odell probably doesn’t want to have to make a new table again.” Roda shook her head in disbelief, and Bren lent on the doorframe. “‘Nuff about them, though. Heard you crashed your TARDIS.”</p><p>Roda grimaced; aiming for playful and landing instead on worried. Seeing her expression Bren straightened up, brow furrowing in concern.</p><p>“Not on purpose.”</p><p>“Well, obviously,” Bren snorted, trying to cheer her up. “You couldn’t hit something on purpose if your life depended on it.”</p><p>“Hey!” Roda’s eyes flashed, and she stumbled to her feet, laughing incredulously. “S’not like you could fly any better!”</p><p>Bren smirked, satisfied, and using the wall for balance Roda crossed the room to throw her arm over his shoulder. He wrapped his around her side, tucking her insistently close and pressing a kiss to her forehead that said ‘I was worried sick’ more keenly than any words could. Roda smiled - healed, more or less, but still more than a little sore - and gestured at the door.</p><p>“Do you know where my TARDIS is?”</p><p>Bren looked a little sheepish. </p><p>“Uh… yes and no.” Roda raised an eyebrow. “It’s in the square. But it keeps hiding on us.”</p><p>Roda wanted to be surprised, but she couldn’t quite find the emotion. She opened and shut her mouth, trying to decide if her TARDIS was playing with them, or just nervous. A little bit of both, she decided, especially if the stranger had been the last one to handle her. (Then again, it had always liked him. Roda has been grumpy about that, before, but if he’d just saved her life then… well. She supposed her TARDIS must’ve been a good judge of character.) Would it come out for her, or keep on hiding?</p><p>“Sax said something about behind the tents…?” she began, fishing for what she’d overheard when she first woke up. Craning her neck to look Bren in the face, she sighed; realizing, all of a sudden, how amazingly <em> tired </em>she still was. </p><p>“S’not there anymore,” shrugged Bren, giving the bed a sideways glance. “Not planning on running out on us, are you?”</p><p>“Not… yet,” replied Roda, going for the most honest answer.</p><p>She wanted company, and friends who had never to ask of her. But she also still wanted freedom, and though the bruises might have healed she still wanted to put Rassilon behind her until she could make some sense of the cacophony of feelings she had about her childhood. Faintly aware that she couldn’t have both, however, she didn’t much want to think about it right <em> now </em>, and she told Bren as such. He tapped the end of her nose, watching her cross-eyed to look at his finger, and then laughed.</p><p>“Good. Cause if Odell salvages dinner, you don’t want to miss it.” He nudged her gently in the ribs. “And you’ve got to move your TARDIS before someone walks into it.”</p><p>“You know it won’t be <em> invisible, </em>right?” Roda rolled her eyes. “It’ll be a tree, or a hut that wasn’t there before, or something.”</p><p>“Well excuse me,” teased Bren, somehow dragging out the middle word into at least two extra syllables. “Not all of us had your fancy schmancy education, Time Lady.”</p><p>“Fancy schmancy educations can go stuff themselves,” retorted Roda, with vigour. Bren laughed even harder, and raised his free hand in surrender.</p><p>“Alright. Alright. Come on, if you want to sneak out and find your TARDIS before Odell gets back you’d better hurry up.” </p><p>Roda didn’t need telling twice. If Bren didn’t want to talk about feelings - or had at least decided that <em> she </em>didn’t want to - then she was more than happy to follow that lead. She locked her worries and the lingering pain in a little box at the back of her mind, and swallowed the key. Later; she could think about it later, alone, when no one could see what emotions might bleed out. For now, she had a TARDIS to check on and a friend who wanted to make her smile and the promise of a good meal. That was enough to keep everything at bay…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>― Mahatma Gandhi</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The TARDIS didn’t take too long to find, and in the end it didn’t take Roda too long to convince it that she was sorry. Not, of course, that the collision had been <em>wholly </em>her fault, but she couldn’t help but feel responsible. After all, she had been arrogant enough to believe that she was a flawless pilot who would have a perfect first solo flight, and they had been lucky only to pay a small price for that attitude.</p><p>Odell wasn’t that cross either, when she and Bren slinked back into the house, their noses guiding them in the direction of a cooking meat that Roda didn’t recognize, but which smelled delicious. It had taken a little longer to convince <em>her </em>that not only was Roda a Time Lord and thus healed faster than they had, but also that the stranger had done more than a little first aid on her. That, and that she wasn’t made of porcelain.</p><p>Roda had grown accustomed to being nagged at and told what to do, but someone being worried for her safety just because they <em>cared</em> was something she hadn’t exactly had in bucketloads growing up, and it was… well. She <em>wanted </em>to say that it was stifling, and push Odell away, but in the end she didn’t. Couldn’t. It was everything she hated and everything she had wanted all rolled up into one package, and she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let someone coddle her a little. With her pride and her hearts more wounded than her body, being mothered wasn’t terrible.</p><p>For a day or two, Roda was left to her own devices to get to know the settlement properly. She had been before, but never for more than a couple of hours, and there were shobogan who were much less happy to see a Time Lord walking around than the handful who knew her well. Roda couldn’t blame them, and tried to be both helpful and inconspicuous at the same time, to varied degrees of success. In the end she wound up bothering Bren and Tillie as much as she could, which meant working in the fields taking in food that was already too sparse. Even with the reduced load, it was hard and tiring work, and at first she wasn’t entirely trusted with it; after all, they were trying to get as much out of a meagre crop as they could, and she was a <em>Time Lord</em>. And so everything about the gruelling task only compounded her anger at the Council and helped Roda come to the conclusion that whatever she did, she <em>wasn’t </em>going back to the Citadel. Not any time soon.</p><p>Even if she did, she would have some… <em>choice </em>words for ‘Lord’ Rassilon. Some Lord, letting people on his planet starve. She… she had never thought him so <em>cruel</em>.</p><p>By day six or seven, she was beginning to get the feeling that she was in the way and wasn’t much use at all, for all that Bren tried to reassure her that was not the case. As though reading her mind, Odell threw tasks at her with a vengeance; and as soon as <em>she </em>was working Roda to the bone, it opened the floodgates for all of the other adults in the settlement. The few next weeks became a blur of ‘could you help me withs’ and ‘take this tos’ and ‘you’re doing that wrong, here, it’s like thises’ that had Roda’s head reeling and she all but collapsed into bed at the end of the day, sleeping longer than she had since she was a Tot. But she appreciated being needed, and having a place in the community, and she even entertained the idea that maybe she could just… <em>stay</em> there. With the shobogans. Be one of them. Retire from life as a Time Lady. Here, the expectations laid on her made <em>sense; </em>the betterment of the community. Of the family.</p><p>She had been there for two months when she woke up one morning in an even more unfamiliar than usual bed, in a tangle of limbs with at least five feet and no clear memory of how she had got there. For what felt like hours, Roda lay at the bottom of a pile of people and contemplated going back to sleep and dealing with the mystery <em>later. </em>Her head was pounding, and she didn’t think that she had ever been drunk before, but that this must be what it felt like.</p><p>How much did a Time Lord even have to drink to get drunk? Did Shobogans have some weird alcohol she’d never tried that was more potent than what they got in the Citadel? Had she even been drinking the night before? Time Lords didn’t <em>do </em>drunk. The odd drink, but not drunk drinking drunk… drunk. <em>Rassilon, my head’s a mess. So I guess this Time Lord </em>does <em>do drunk.</em></p><p>There had been a… <em>birthday</em>? She couldn’t recall. One of her arms had begun to go to sleep, and somebody was snoring. It didn’t help with the thinking. If she closed her eyes again and joined them, she suspected she’d soon be snoring again soon. <em>Work it out later. </em>Maybe next time she woke up, she’d remember how she got to bed in the first place, and whose it was. But curiosity and numbness eventually got the better of her, and with what felt like colossal effort she lifted her head and blinked blearily at the bodies on top of her.</p><p>One of them was Bren. Seeing him was both a relief, and a bit of concern. He had a way of talking her into making terrible decisions, which probably explained the headache. The other body was a girl that Roda didn’t recognize, but she was topless and not exactly bad-looking and clinging to Bren like a flubble. She, it turned out, was the snorer. Her legs were between Bren’s, and her friend and sometimes lover was spread out like a cat on top of Roda with his face in her neck. One foot dangled over the edge of the bed, twitching, so he was alive at least, but his hair was sticking out every which way somehow even more than usual.</p><p>Roda lifted his foot, experimentally, with her ankle. He didn’t budge. Neither did the girl, except to turn her head over and nuzzle into Bren. Getting a better look at her face Roda had a sudden memory of kissing her, the night before. Quite a few times, along with Bren, and… Ellan? She wriggled one hand free, ran it through her loose hair and experimented with whether or not she was undressed, and found that she was at least wearing a shirt. It was coarse, and too big for her, and stifling hot in the pile. But with her arm free she was able to squirm and get a leg free, and she reasoned that perhaps she could roll herself onto the floor without taking Bren and the girl with her.</p><p>Something like laughter, at the back of her mind, interrupted her attempts to break free. Roda paused, and then looked from the ceiling to the floor and made a slight ‘ah’ sound.</p><p><em>«I suppose you think this is funny.» </em>Her TARDIS - which Roda slowly realised she was in a previously ungenerated room of - replied in its own way that yes, it very much was. Roda licked her lips, and sighed. <em>«Surprised you let them in.»</em></p><p><em>«</em>You<em> did,» </em>insisted the TARDIS; smugly, Roda thought. <em>«Friends.»</em></p><p><em>«</em>Bren <em>is,» </em>the Time Lord pointed out. And then she contemplated that she had woken up in bed with two other people, and shrugged thoughtfully. <em>«Fair.»</em></p><p>As the TARDIS lit up just enough for Roda to see more clearly, she continued wriggling her way out of bed. There were - she thought with a thrill - people who would consider it scandalous for a Time Lady to wake up in bed in her TARDIS in the arms of a pair of shobogans. Her teeth flashed in a grin, and then she chastised herself. Although the night was still a blur, she hoped that she hadn’t done it - whatever ‘it’ turned out to be - out of spite. <em>Mind you if Rassilon found out and didn’t regenerate me where I stood, I’d be able to laugh from the look on his face for the rest of my lives.</em></p><p>She had one foot on the ground and her cheek pressed into Bren’s side when he began to stir. Roda froze again, hoping he would drift off again; instead, he reached out and took hold of her shoulder.</p><p>“Not leaving, are you?”</p><p>Roda shot him a sheepish smile, getting the other foot on the floor and craning her neck to look him in the eye.</p><p>“...no?”</p><p>Bren chuckled, his eyes still half closed. “Looks like it.”</p><p>“You’re <em>heavy.</em>”</p><p>“Well, <em>you’re </em>knobbly.”</p><p>The situation - getting too drunk, taking people home to her TARDIS, getting trapped underneath them - was so ridiculous that Roda finally lost it. She put her knuckle in her mouth, suffocating a chuckle that slowly became a laugh and once it started she found it wouldn’t go back where it came from. Though she clapped her hands over her mouth to be as quiet as possible it was no use, and carefully rolling onto his back and slipping the still snoring girl onto his side Bren began to laugh along with her. And then he covered his eyes with one arm, shaking his head and groaning quietly.</p><p>“Pazithi Gallifreya, stop it. We’re laughing too loud.”</p><p>“Sore head?” asked Roda; half teasing, and half in sympathy. She cupped her chin in one hand, still a little sleepy herself. Bren hit her lightly.</p><p>“Sore head. Good night, though.”</p><p>“S’morning.”</p><p>“<em>No,</em>” groaned Bren, “I mean that it <em>was </em>a good night. Why?” He cracked open an eye as though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but still managed to smirk. “Don’t you remember?”</p><p>“Shut it.”</p><p>“Oh, make me.”</p><p>It had been a good night, though, Roda realised, as details came back to her. Drinking, dancing, a whole celebration of life that Time Lords just… didn’t do. Most of her birthdays had come and gone without fanfare, and while she had grown to <em>appreciate </em>that it was nice to see how much a group of people so similar to her, and yet so different, didn’t let those milestones pass. <em>Because they’ll have less birthdays, </em>a voice at the back of her mind reminded her, but Roda pushed the thought down, and held onto the high. Did it matter how long their lives lasted? They made the most of it, even when the Citadel had dealt them the worst of two hands on the planet. And they threw good parties, even when the crop was scarce and there seemed like little reason to celebrate.</p><p>She sighed, wondering how deep into the TARDIS they were. She fancied a glass of water, and Bren and the girl would probably need something, too. And maybe something to eat, though she wasn’t hungry herself. Since Bren still looked half asleep, she left him to do his dozing and wandered off in search of the kitchen, letting the TARDIS take care of her and show her the way.</p><p>It didn’t take too long to find. Roda sank into a comfortable chair that wrapped behind a small, round table, her second glass of cold water in hand, and closed her eyes for a minute. These few weeks with the Shobogans, she decided, had been good. Affirming. A chance to let go of responsibility. And while there were responsibilities that she had to go back to, the thing they had confirmed most of all was how little she wanted them. She’d been right when she had told Peri that she had no interest in joining the Council. Seeing the corruption first hand, having to play nice with stuffy Lords and Ladies who were more interested in making their Houses better off and pleasing Rassilon was not for her.</p><p>But then if she walked away from it… what would she do? How could she help anyone if she left it all behind? She could join the parties that sometimes raided the Citadel for supplies, but she didn’t think she had it in her, quite yet, to steal from the people who raised her. (Would I ever? Could I?) One option would be to go back and try and explain how wrong they were, but that was a doomed idea from the beginning; her last talk with Rassilon had made that very clear. Even if there had been a day when he might have listened to her, it was certainly a long gone one, now. The bruises on her neck had long faded… but she still felt his hands. Still blinked, and remembered Eighth Man Bound, and that weird almost-prophecy that had taken her years to recall even half of. <em>‘The child will return, but not to home’... </em>did that mean she was going to leave Gallifrey? Or did it mean that her home was here, with the Shobogans? And most of all… did she even care?</p><p>Taking on responsibilities in the fields and with Odell and Bren had taught Roda something she’d never been equipped for before; that even if she didn’t feel like it yet, she <em>was </em>an adult, now. There was nobody that she <em>had </em>to please, because she was nobody’s ward. Family and friends were one thing, sure, but she was the only one, at the end of the day, who could chart her course… and the thought made her smile, as she took another slow sip of the glass of water. She didn’t have to run away from what she didn’t want to do, because she could simply <em>walk</em>, and nobody would stop her. Nobody had control over her. Nobody made the rules of her household, because she was her own household. And the thought gave her a kind of thrill. <em>You have permission not to be angry about what’s gone, </em>she told herself, feeling more sage than she really was. <em>Claim it. </em>She wasn’t who she used to be anymore. And that was… it was <em>fine.</em></p><p>As she slipped back into bed beside Bren and handed him something to drink, Roda had a new smile on her face, and a spring in her step despite her headache. Things, she decided, were going to be okay. Whether she decided to stay here, or go back, or go somewhere else, or be with people or be on her own or - or <em>whatever </em>she chose, it was going to be fine. Because she was fine, and home was where the hearts were.</p><p>Bren stared at the water for a couple of bleary minutes, and then seemed to watch Roda as he drank, a curious look on his face. When he was done and he passed it back to Roda - who placed it on a shelf behind her - he pulled a face at her, lost in thought.</p><p>“What?” she asked, scratching the side of her nose. “Is there something wrong with my face?”</p><p>“No…” Bren paused, pursing his lips. “But there’s something different about you.”</p><p>“I had a hearts to hearts with myself this morning,” she said, cheerfully, cuddling into his other side. The girl snored on. “I feel like a new Time Lord.”</p><p>“You Time Lords are crazy,” teased Bren, rolling his eyes. “You know you can talk to other people, right?”</p><p>“I seem to recall you wanted to do something else with your mouth last night,” commented Roda, slyly. Bren opened his mouth with a retort and then shut it again, putting an arm around her and pulling her closer.</p><p>“Fine. But you’re still crazy.”</p><p>“I probably am,” agreed Roda, closing her eyes. “But I think I’m happy.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>End of Act 2.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i> “I hope she'll be a fool -- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter contains a LOT of random world-building on the Boeshane Peninsula, some of it based on canon and other parts just based on how I always sort of imagined it.</p><p>Any canon discrepancies are thus hand waved by “what even <i>is</i> Doctor Who canon, anyway?”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>THE BOESHANE PENINSULA, 51st CENTURY</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Twenty eight years later…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Boeshane Pensinula was, Rodageitmososa decided, everything that she had been told to expect it was and somehow ten times </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every bit of tourist claptrap that had tried to get her to visit it in the past twenty eight years had somehow failed to do the real thing justice. The Pensinsula boasted an ‘experience’ for two very different walks of life. There were the outer planets, which were dubiously defended, wild, apparently largely sandy due to the proximity to the nearest sun, and had a decent enough industry in rich visitors wanting to explore the great unknown. Roda had visited a few of them and decided that the great unknown was largely sand; and that the people there mostly wanted to be left alone. And then there was their Capitol, as she had come to think of it. While most of it seemed to be under the thumb of the Bank of the Colonies - and, as such, ruffled Roda’s feathers just enough in its similarity to the grandiosity of Gallifrey - it was at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>exciting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Exciting was perhaps the wrong word. Busy. Active. Loud. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very </span>
  </em>
  <span>illegal. It was a hotspot for every vice that the universe had to offer and quite a few you had never heard of, so she’d been told… and despite all of her misgivings about how the place was run, Roda had been unable to resist it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving behind the Shobogans, though, had been harder than Roda had anticipated. Gallifrey she was sick of, at the moment; especially with Rassilon’s apparent neglect of half of the planet. She felt as though given time, and space - which of course she had in abundance - she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him and her anger had died down… but she still didn’t feel much like going home. But Tillie, and Elan, and Odell, and Sax, and Bren… they had taken her in when she was hurt, and hadn’t felt like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>go home. It had seemed strange to repay that kindness by leaving again, but it hadn’t even seemed to surprise Odell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had promised to visit, when she returned, and being supplies. Whenever that was. (And she had, in fact, been back there briefly, and left behind things without being seen. It was the thought that mattered, not the reward.) It was easier to imagine they would welcome her with open arms than to imagine Rassilon would. She knew he would be furious when she returned… but she would talk to him, when she was ready. Perhaps try to mend bridges. But not today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping out of her TARDIS in the middle of a bustling green belt, Roda could hardly keep her jaw from dropping. She had never seen so many different things or races in one space at a time before! On her left there were a pair of malmooth getting to know each other better. On her right, a scantily clad, turquoise blue man held out fliers for some club where you could see more scantily clad people for a ‘premium discount’. As far as the eye could see there were people and sights and gazebos and sculptures with great, towering skyscrapers in the distance and she had no idea where to begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scantily clad man with the clearly prehensile tail, however, seemed a tempting place to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making sure that her ‘tree’ was locked, Roda slipped her TARDIS key into her shirt and made her way towards the man with a chorus of ‘excuse me’s and ‘coming through’s and tried to make it look as though she </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel out of place. In truth, as much as the Peninsula’s Capitol thrilled her, she’d put it off for as long as she had because it was just as intimidating. She had spent the past twenty eight years going to all of the places time travellers were supposed to go, to varying degrees of enjoyment. The Medusa Cascade had been beautiful. The Jolly Chronolidays tour had turned into a theatrical lecture on Omega that got so many details wrong it had </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>been enjoyable. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The actor playing Rassilon was hilarious, though. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Other places scarcely neared remembering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the really important places… she still hadn’t plucked up the courage to go to Sol-3, to Sherwood Forest. It seemed like something that she couldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>rush </span>
  </em>
  <span>on a whim, somewhere that she had to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>ready </span>
  </em>
  <span>for. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And you will be, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she coached herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eventually. You </span>
  </em>
  <span>have </span>
  <em>
    <span>to be! </span>
  </em>
  <span>And then there were places she knew her father had liked that she was putting off as long as she could; that way, there would always be one more thing to do with him. But it was nearing her three hundred and thirty second birthday, and she had decided to rip off the bandaid and do something really insane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had no intention of leaving the Peninsula until she had sampled </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>it supposedly had to offer. Perhaps twice. And then maybe going back to Gallifrey, and convincing Bren or Peri come back with her for a third round.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tailed man with next to no clothing saw her coming, and Roda couldn’t help but notice the grin that he flashed her as she approached. All teeth, and yet still charming. His hands were clawed, but trimmed and painted and they seemed almost hypnotic as he twirled a flier in front of her face and winked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First time in the Capitol?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda blinked. “How did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, pretty thing like you,” he grinned again, “I’d like to think I’d remember you.” Roda almost, but not quite, lost the battle not to blush. Probably well aware of the fact - he was giving off such heightened pheromones that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be artificial! - the alien continued. “That, and you haven’t got the move down yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the please-and-thank-you </span>
  <em>
    <span>la di da</span>
  </em>
  <span> you did on your way over here.” He laughed. “Anyone who’s been here before knows to just move on through and hope the waves either part, or make it worth your while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could embarrass herself more, Roda plucked the flier from the man’s claw. She let her gaze travel from his pink claws to his lightly swishing tail, and made an appreciative noise that did not go unnoticed. She saw the tail flick again, like a Gallifreyan cat who’d just seen a tafelshrew, and there was nothing at all to sniff at about the muscles beneath the blue scales. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if he could lift me with that tail…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tearing her gaze away, she read the flier, waiting for the TARDIS’ translation matrix to kick in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” she asked, hoping she sounded as confident as she was aiming for, “I visit this place, would that make it worth my while?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man laughed, getting far too into her personal space to point out a rip-off coupon on the bottom of the flier. “Good for two visits, free after-your-first-full-paid-visit,” he explained, hurrying over the small print. Roda snorted. “All the pleasures of the Boeshane Peninsula at a price that pleasures your wallet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And will I see you there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That got her another toothy grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After eight you will. Head to the back, ask for T’kqzo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda rolled the syllables over her tongue, committing them to memory. “And you’ll teach me all about these pleasures?” She pushed a stray curl behind her ear, doing her best to flirt and apparently succeeding at least a little bit. “Little old me, new in town?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of them and more,” T’kqzo winked. “Wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream </span>
  </em>
  <span>of making you spend your first night here alone! After eight, ‘course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a special offer I can’t refuse.” Roda winked, and then frowned lightly. “If I don’t get lost. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>home planet hardly had buildings this tall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyper-tax coordinates’re on the back.” T’kqzo mimicked turning over the sheet of paper, and sure enough, there was a string of numbers and a barcode. “You probably got here by tax, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea what he was on about, Roda nodded. “Tax. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” T’kqzo beamed. “So just show ‘em this at the hyper-tax port outside the park - by the big fountains - and they’ll get you if you’ve got the credits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of credits. A whole stick of them that she’d found a few years ago, tried to find the owner of, and then given up and kept for herself. And then of course there were casinos on the planet, apparently. Roda was fairly certain she could play cards well enough to keep herself afloat, and she trusted her sleight of hand well enough to handle any hiccups.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And it’s not cheating if everyone else is cheating, too. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d learned that from playing cards with Sax and Bren, and found tricks that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>wouldn’t notice in the books she’d read growing up. Regardless - the Peninsula would be a breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Split a hyper-tax when you’re done here?” She asked T’kqzo, pushing her luck. He laughed, but shook his head with an apologetic shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got, like, five other places to be between now and then. But I’m counting on seeing you there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t miss it for all the time in the vortex!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weird phrase - I love it. Hey!” T’kqzo turned away, waving a handful of fliers in the face of a crowd of passing androids. “Want an offer you can’t miss for all the time in the vortex?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head Roda wandered off again with the coupon tucked into her breast pocket, T’kqzo’s phone number, and a spring in her step. She had survived her first experience in the Peninsula! </span>
  <em>
    <span>This isn’t as bad as everyone made out. Just crowded. I can do this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>All she had to do now was a little exploring, maybe see more of the park and then take a tax - taxi, she supposed. Local slang? - across town in time to be bench-pressed by a scaled, polished hunk in a couple of hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe I just flirted with a </span>
  </em>
  <span>stranger </span>
  <em>
    <span>like that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she admonished herself, as she walked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do I even like scales? What does he have below the belt? Are we even compatible? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She could feel a blush rising and wanted to smack herself for letting her imagination and her determination to misbehave run wild. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But it’ll be fun to work out, right?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda pinched her nose and shook her head. No point stressing herself out over it and not having any </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d get some food, find a map of some sort and start her weeks in the Peninsula off with a bang. The hardest part would be not looking too much like the newbie, but she’d grown pretty good at not being seen since she was a child. It would be fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her stomach rumbled, and Roda decided that food came first. Food, and working out how the credit stick </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d managed to study it back in her TARDIS, and it didn’t seem to have any kind of security or a PIN code. In fact it had almost been </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>easy to access, and she was still surprised that the police on the planet she’d found it on had been so insistent that she keep it. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Gallifreyan coin couldn’t always be flashed around. Neither could psychic cheque paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so finders-keepers money it was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>May as well be glad of my luck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she supposed, looking around for some kind of street meat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five minutes and a lot of trial and error later, Roda sank onto a bench beside a gorgeous Arcateenian and tore into some kind of kebab with hopeful hearts. The sun was shining. She had a hot stranger’s number. The kebab was some kind of meat she had never heard of, but it was delicious. And there was money burning a hole in her pocket in one of the most outrageous places in the universe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe this’ll even be the kick I finally need to swallow my nerves and face the music back home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But today, she would let nothing get her down. She was a Time Lady on a mission!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What could possibly go wrong?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It’s pronounced “tuh-kiz-ko” and no, I don’t know where the name came from. The realm of 2am...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“It is often said that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Sound advice though this may be, it does not get one very far in practice. The reason is that there is no agent called “history” which teaches unambiguous moral lessons.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- Coleman Cruz Hughes</b>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There’s a couple of references in the first half of this chapter. Strap in - it’s about to get rocky.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>T’kqzo, it turned out, could do a lot more with his tail than lift her up. Surprising even herself, Roda made full use of the coupon she’d been given over the course of her first week in the Boeshane Peninsula, and then came back for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimly, she was aware that that was exactly how they caught you. Send in a pheromone-laden sex god to lure you in and then keep you spending money at (it turned out) the dance club he worked at. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>aware </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this fact in that it was blindly obvious to anyone with half a brain… and she had decided to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignore</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fact. Because she rather liked watching him dance, and she rather liked watching him dance </span>
  <em>
    <span>in private </span>
  </em>
  <span>and T’kqzo loved his job which made it all incredibly sexy and honestly, she had begun to get drawn in by what sold the average tourist on the place. Even if your average Time Lord was not, typically, your average tourist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And besides, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she had reasoned one morning, waking up in the green room sprawled on top of T’kqzo. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn’t hurt to have one place in this enormous Capitol that I can actually understand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, she didn’t spend all the time at the dance club. She bar-hopped (trying out new and exciting drinks including one which was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as advertised, like a slice of lemon wrapped around a brick) and she spent hours in the parks enjoying the scenery. It had become obvious fairly early on that the green belt was artificial in some places and imported in others, and that there was some kind of habitat system that made this planet less arid than all the rest. But it was still beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so her days had become an endless cycle of sight-seeing by daylight (there was a lot of stuff to keep tourists busy) and partying by night (thank Rassilon for Time Lord physiology). She was beginning to see why some visitors to the Peninsula didn’t want to leave. The only thing she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>tried were the genetic augments people were always trying to sell her on street corners. Nothing that came ‘in a little glass vial’ sounded like anything she wanted inserted in her body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her TARDIS had sulked the first night that she hadn’t come home, but Roda had smoothed </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>over and honestly, she was having the time of her lives. And then one day, she had put in the wrong hyper-tax coordinates and found herself lost in a quieter part of town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda sighed, and started walking. She had tried to flag the hyper-tax down when she’d realised he was in the wrong place, but he had zipped off before she had the chance. There would be a place she could hail another one somewhere nearby, but she supposed that she might as well take advantage of the chance to see somewhere new.</span>
</p><p>It looked as though she’d wound up in one of the residential zones. Lines of apartments rose up to the sky on either side of her, with the odd chair or plant sitting outside. As she craned her neck she could see people on balconies and hear the sound of music from somewhere or another. It seemed alive, but in a different way to the rest of the Capitol. Sincere, almost. Not glammed up for buy one, get one free package holidays. Real people lived here, not dancers and dealers.</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she mumbled to herself, looking up and down the street in the hopes of seeing some sort of sign, or maybe somebody who could give her directions. “You’re a Time Lord, Roda. Buck up and get yourself </span>
  <em>
    <span>unlo</span>
  </em>
  <span>st.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finding her way back out of regular civilization turned out to be a trick easier said than done. An hour later, Roda was still lost, and more than a little ill at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had begun to get the nagging feeling that somebody was watching her. Though she’d tried to write off her paranoia by pointing out that the people who lived on the streets she was aimlessly wandering were probably uncertain about who she was… the feeling was in her gut. Deep and knotted and telling her that she was in danger. Or, perhaps not </span>
  <em>
    <span>danger </span>
  </em>
  <span>she reasoned, but at least that something wasn’t right; and not just being lost. The feeling was vaguely familiar in a way that she couldn’t place. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because I’ve never really </span>
  </em>
  <span>been </span>
  <em>
    <span>in danger before, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought to herself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so why would I know what it felt like? </span>
  </em>
  <span>But some instinct was telling her to run, and she couldn’t wait until she found a hyper-tax rank and made it back to her TARDIS.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll give the partying a miss, tonight, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she decided. It wasn’t like she’d be missed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning against a wall she reached into her satchel for a bottle that had once contained over-priced juice but that she had refilled with water in her TARDIS. Taking a long drag of the cool liquid, she looked at the sky and sighed. She was beginning to wonder if knocking on somebody’s door and asking for directions would be a good idea. Maybe they’d have a phone, or could at least point out which way she’d have to talk and for how many hours. But for the first time since leaving Gallifrey behind she was really beginning to feel as though the whole ‘I’m an adult and I can do what I like’ mentality she’d been travelling with for nearly thirty years might have its downsides. There were perks to answering to nobody, yes… but apparently also cons. Such as not having somebody with her, or a map. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant to keep a map on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was as she was recapping her drink that the hairs on her arms stood on end again. Roda stood up suddenly, clasping her bag with her few belongings to her side. She looked around, but there was no one there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one I can see, anyway.</span>
  </em>
  <span> As she began walking again she slipped her hand back into the satchel, groping around for the small folding knife she kept on her ‘just in case’. Wrapping her hand around the hilt made her feel a little better, but not by much. Walking soon turned into a jog, but she could hear her hearts racing in her ears, and smell the sweat under her collar. Something was wrong. She didn’t know what, and she didn’t know why she knew, but something was very, very wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer came to her as she grabbed a lamp post to slow herself down as she all but flung herself around a street corner and into the waiting barrel of a gun. Later, she would have liked to say that she’d been calm, collected; kept her cool. But instead she yelped, swore loudly and stumbled backwards, landing hard on her arse with a painful thump. She tried to draw her knife but her wrist caught on the strap of her bag, and before she could untangle herself from the leather a foot kicked the bag and the knife fell from her grip. The strap tore, falling from her shoulder and scattering her belongings all over the ground as the gun moved even closer at lightning speed, aimed right between her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda held out her hands, trying to show her assaulted that they were empty, and summoned all the courage that she had to talk to the uniformed man standing over her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m - I’m lost!” she stammered, feeling nothing at all like a Time Lord. Any sense of propriety or pride in who and when she was had been left behind the day that Rassilon had struck her. “Please - I have credits!” She reached out for her bag, but the gun waved insistently in her face and she decided against it. “If - if that’s what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment her assailant stared at her, and she thought perhaps he was considering her offer. And then he crouched down in front of her, his aim never wavering, and… laughed. He shook his head, and reached into the utility belt he was wearing to pull out a set of handcuffs, which he dangled in front of her face. Roda’s hearts sank as a hundred terrible things crossed her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What does he want?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her eyes darted back and forth. They were alone, and nobody in any of the apartments had heard her shout out - or they had ignored it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Skaro </span>
  <em>
    <span>do I do?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The innocent act might work on some men, Redjay.” The stranger studied her up and down, and grinned. He was tall, with dark hair and bright, blue eyes that seemed to look right into her. The grin was cheeky, but dangerous, and Roda frowned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Redjay? What does </span>
  </em>
  <span>that </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“And believe me, you make it work. But I’ve got a job to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hit him, then. Hard, with her knee, right between the legs. His eyes boggled with pain, but as Roda tried to yank her leg back and roll to her feet he clamped his thighs tight around her leg and grabbed her by the front of the shirt. Moving on instinct alone she tried to headbutt him in the hopes he would let go of her, but he dodged and she only succeeded in slamming her nose painfully into his shoulder. He pulled her up by the collar and then slammed her back into the ground, and for a second all Roda saw was stars. But before she could try and react again he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing his knee into the small of her back and holding her down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda panted, trying to break free of the hold, but all it got her in return was a stab of pain down her side. She was held firm below the man’s weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who is he?! What is going </span>
  </em>
  <span>on</span>
  <em>
    <span>?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The cuffs clicked shut around her wrists, just a little too tightly. Roda growled and hissed in pain - equal parts furious and terrified - as the assailant struggled to catch his breath atop her and pressed the barrel of his gun between her shoulder blades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go and add assaulting a Time Agent to the list, didn’t you?” he snapped, breathlessly. “Bad idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widened in shock. A Time Agent? Her mind reeled, every horror story that she had ever been told about the Time Agency coming to mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s why I felt something. He’s psychic. Kind of. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She tried to throw him off her with a sharp, stabbing pulse of her telepathy - a trick she had learned, brawling with Selesion years ago - but his mind was shielded. Not entirely, but at least enough so that he seemed to shrug him off. But he dug his knee and his gun sharper into her back, his pain recoiling on her as she did so. Roda growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a Time Lord,” she tried, scrambling for any tactic she could find. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had heard of his kind. Their Agency wasn’t like the Celestial Intervention Agency. They didn’t play by any of the rules that Gallifrey swore to play by. The Time Agency was ruthless, practically a militarized band of mercenaries with basic time travel capabilities and some training. They answered only to themselves, so the stories went, and a good Time Agent could hound you for weeks without you knowing. And a Time Agent would kill you, so the rumours at the Academy had gone, as soon as look at you; as soon as they got what they wanted. Roda’s blood ran ice cold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And this one must’ve mistaken me for somebody else. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rassilon’s balls, she had no idea what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man snorted with dark laughter. “Right. I know what you are, Redjay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> - that’s not my name!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t figure it was,” said the Time Agent, dragging her to her feet. “But it’s the one we know you by. Us and at least thirty other planets with a price on your head.”</span>
</p><p>“You have the wrong person!” <span>Roda tried to turn her head to look at him. </span>“That’s not me! I’m just - I’m just visiting!”</p><p>
  <span>“Biggest mistake you’ve ever made, Redjay.” He shook his head. “But I gotta hand it to you - fucking cocky waltzing into our city after pulling that heist at the Bank. Clumsy,” he shrugged, “but cocky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her hands bound behind her back and blood trickling over her lip from where she’d hit the man’s shoulder, Roda struggled to think. She had to - to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Explain that she had the wrong person. Trying to reach out telepathically once again (this time, to show him that she wasn’t lying) was, however, the wrong something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barrel of the Time Agent’s gun slammed into her temple before she could open her mouth again, and darkness claimed her. The last thing Roda saw was the vortex bending all around her, a flash of light, and then nothing at all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“But my patience isn't limitless... unlike my authority.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>— Dan Abnett, Xenos.</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Welcome back to the land of the living…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda’s head pounded, and all she could see was light. Bright, artificial light that hurt her eyes and hurt her head and seemed to go right through her eyelids. She closed her eyes tight, immediately regretting opening them, and groaned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What did I </span>
  </em>
  <span>drink </span>
  <em>
    <span>last night? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She couldn’t remember. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did that Pangalactic whatchamacallit actually live up to its promise? </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was a blur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her nose hurt - had she fallen over? - and her face felt bruised - she must have - and all she wanted to do was let sleep claim her for a couple of hours. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll probably </span>
  </em>
  <span>not </span>
  <em>
    <span>regret my decisions in the morning,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she told herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Once I’ve had a little more…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Reality, however, came back to her like a sucker punch in the gut. She opened her eyes once more like a woman coming to life, trying to lift her hand to shield her face, but found that they were held tight.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squinting, she looked down through the glare at where her arms would be and saw tight, leather manacles securing her to the arms of a chair. An explorative tug told her that similar cuffs were holding her legs in place and no matter how much she strained and pulled, she was very much </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>making the restraints any looser. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are they isomorphic</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wondered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>or just really, </span>
  </em>
  <span>really </span>
  <em>
    <span>tight? </span>
  </em>
  <span>It hardly mattered. The fact was that she was stuck, and she had never felt such a sense of dread as she did now in her entire life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strapped you in myself,” said the voice behind the light. Roda tried to make out a figure, but her eyes were taking their time to adapt. But she recognized it; the Time Agent who’d arrested her. “You’re not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to tell you,” she hissed, continuing to try and wriggle free to no avail. “You have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong person</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” Roda heard footsteps pacing around her, and then the sound of electronic beeping. “I have your file right here,” she could just make out him waving something at her as he came around her other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached out and touched her inner elbow, and Roda flinched, before realizing he was touching some cotton padding taped down. He peeled up the medical tape, and looked at the underside of the cotton. Now it had been brought to her attention, Roda could feel the slight sting in her arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the blood sample checks out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the agent gripped the arms of her chair and looked her in the eye, “are a very hard Time Lord to catch. But you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Redjay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it was, that name again. That name that wasn’t right, wasn’t hers and yet held some strange, unknown thrill. Like it was a name she had heard before, or read about. She was too alarmed to try and think </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it whispered at the back of her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Reda, Redga… </span>
  </em>
  <span>the memory was hers, and somehow wasn’t. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Straw blond hair, a braid and darts of red. Pain, in her back. Light, </span>
  </em>
  <span>blinding </span>
  <em>
    <span>light.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it hit her. Eighth Man Bound, all those years ago. Was this the word she’d been trying to find, back then? ‘Redjay’? And if so, why? It wasn’t her; she had done nothing to get the Time Agency’s attention. Had it been a warning? Someone to watch out for, a trap, a threat?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know who the fuck ‘the Redjay’ is,” she began, as calmly as she could manage. Which was not very calm at all, with the Time Agent’s breath on her face, and no idea what was going on. “And I am a Time Lord of Gallifrey. No matter who you - you </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>I am,” she continued, coldly, “under the legislation set down by the Celestial Intervention Agency in collaboration with the Time Agency, under President Rassilon’s term,” and oh, he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>be happy with her when he heard about this, “I should be extradited to Gallifrey until you can-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man chuckled, pulling away from Roda and studying the tablet he carried once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, I could play good cop and do that,” he shrugged, scrolling through the files, “or I could get a confession, and I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to send you back.” He flashed her a grin. “Nice loophole. Wouldn’t you rather spend your time with me instead of those stiff collars?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>description of the Council, but she wasn’t in the mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t confess if I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done!” shouted Roda, finally, properly, losing her temper. “This is</span>
  <em>
    <span> insane</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the Time Agency, Redjay. And this game?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s getting old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Undo these cuffs,” demanded Roda, lacing her words with as much </span>
  <em>
    <span>influence </span>
  </em>
  <span>as she could muster, nervous as she was. “We can talk; I’ll show you that I’m not who you think I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it might not be a face we had on record. Well, we do now.” The man smirked. “But I told you. Called in some favours, got a blood sample from the Shadow Proclamation,” Roda blinked - whoever the Redjay </span>
  <em>
    <span>was, </span>
  </em>
  <span>they were clearly trouble, “ran it through our system. It’s a positive match. Time Lord, right blood type, two hearts, all in order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt herself go pale. “There’s no way you have all that data. The CIA wouldn’t allow it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” agreed the Time Agent. “But you’re not exactly popular back home either, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda shook her head. “This is insane. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>insane. I told you - I’m just passing through, I’m just a tourist. I’ve done nothing wrong, I just got lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a weary sigh, the Time Agent strolled back into the shadows and Roda rested her head against the high back of the chair. She was starting to get a headache, and it was clear that her protests were getting her nowhere. Neither was mind control. She felt nauseous from stress, and her mouth was dry. Licking her lips, she racked her brain for something to do; this wasn’t exactly a situation they prepared you for back in the Academy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if it would bite her in the long run, could she convince the agent to call Gallifrey after all? Maybe if she poured on the charm, or - or the waterworks or something. Or tried to make up what he wanted to hear? She didn’t have a clue what the right thing to do was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Time Agent was quiet for a long time, leaving Roda alone with her thoughts. She could hear him walking around and her eyes had almost adjusted to the light of the room. But it was hard to study him. His mind was a wall, and the only indication that they’d had their altercation in the streets at all was a slight waddle to his walk. Otherwise he was calm where she was frantic; in control where she was clueless. Handsome, but in that fifty first century where that said he knew it. And young, she would have guessed. Young, but not inexperienced. Right now, the Time Agent held all the cards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was eating Roda alive. She had to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something, </span>
  </em>
  <span>to fill the void. To give her something to focus on other than peril. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I supposed to have done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning and raising an eyebrow, the man returned and by way of answer, tipped the contents of Roda’s torn satchel out on a nearby table. She started to protest, but where would it get her? She was in no position to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bottle of water fell out first, followed by her knife, a couple of balled up hyper-tax receipts and the flier T’kqzo had given her on her first day in the Peninsula. There was a book she was halfway through and had been reading on the go, with a pressed leaf being used for a bookmark, and a couple of random knick-knacks. And there, at the very bottom, was the credit stick.</span>
</p><p><span>The agent pushed everything else to the side, and then held up the stick with a look on his face that was absolutely triumphant. For a moment, Roda faltered. </span><em><span>I mean, </span></em><span>she thought to herself, </span><em><span>I </span></em><span>tried </span><em><span>to return it.</span></em> <em><span>Surely this isn’t all about that? That can’t have been enough for the Time Agency to be involved.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t finished. Once he was done shaking her bag down, the agent picked up her knife and - turning the satchel inside-out - began unpicking the seams of the inside pocket. Roda (who had been about to start explaining the credit stick) spluttered, even more puzzled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the Skaro are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignored her, slicing the interior of the bag like he was gutting a fish. Peeling the pieces of the lining aside he reached in, and took a small, flat piece of metal with a chip sticking out one end. Roda frowned, trying to get a good look at it. It certainly wasn’t hers, and she’d never seen it before. How had it been inside her bag? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sewn </span>
  </em>
  <span>inside it, no less. The agent flipped over his tablet, inserting the thing - a data stick, then? - into a port on the bottom, and then grinned. Making a tsking noise he brought both the credits and the data stick over, and held up the screen for Roda to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vivid green text and numbers began to print across a black background, too quickly for Roda to read them. It wasn’t a language she recognized, but the TARDIS matrix was translating for her, and she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>put things together. They flashed by for a couple of seconds as Roda tried to focus on them, and then the entire screen faded to white. A moment later words flickered onto the screen below a logo that Roda had remembered seeing on billboards all around the Peninsula.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Time Lady read out loud, baffled. “The Bank of the Peninsula...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously,” the Agent snorted. “You’ve got a </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> credulous tone, but you need to work on that poker face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tricky little doohickey you’ve got, here. Something of </span>
  <em>
    <span>ours,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” explained the Time Agent. “Something you stole from one of our men.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a field for a username and a password, but both were pre-filled with neat little lines of black stars. The Time Agent pressed a button on the tablet, and the page refreshed and loaded again, and the next thing Roda knew she was looking at an unfamiliar page of drop-down menus and numbers and charts and seemingly coordinated strings of letters. A small circle in the top right held the image of a grim-faced humanoid woman and a first name, Lee. Below that in small capital letters was the word ‘ADMIN’. Roda frowned, and looked up at the Time Agent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is your proof-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think finding a universal bypass device in the lining of </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>satchel,” said the Time Agent, calmly, “is pretty damning, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The satchel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bypass thingy!” Roda groaned, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I have no idea what you’re showing me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This, as you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” said the Time Agent, his cheery tone steadily disappearing once again, “is the main server of the Bank of the Peninsula. A bank which </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he continued, “have been skimming for years. But like I said; you’re good.” He put a hand in her face, and Roda flinched as he studied her aching nose. “You seduced one of our men, took the device, slipped under the radar,” he gripped her nose and twisted, and Roda nearly yowled from pain, “and we lost you, for a few years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you,” said Roda, tears of pain in her eyes. But her nose seemed straight again... “You’re the first Time Agent I’ve ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>met.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her with an expression that told her immediately he didn’t believe a word she said, and shrugged, rolling up his shirt sleeves. Roda’s eyes widened, and she pressed herself against the chair, trying in vain to put distance between herself and the Time Agent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s the game we’re playing,” he said, measuredly, “then let me lay it out for you. I get my confession - the easy way…” Before Roda could react, a fist slammed into her stomach. She gasped, wheezing. “Or the hard way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You - you-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So which will it be, Redjay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He struck out again, this time catching her in the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good cop…?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda’s wrists burned as she pulled at her arms, yearning to double over in pain. Her mind retreated in fear and confusion, as she scraped the bottom of the barrel for a way to make this </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A way that someone might help her - a way to convince him that she wasn’t who she thought he was.</span><br/>
<br/>
She wasn’t this criminal, this wanted thief, this - this woman who had the nerve to steal from a Time Agent, then come right back to their home and spend the money. A woman that 
  <em>
    <span>scared </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roda to think about. Not a vigilante, like Robin Hood. A dangerous woman - a Time Lord - who got away with Rassilon only knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>other crimes, and had somehow framed Roda for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when? How? And why </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>? She had no answers, no excuses, to escape rope. No friendly faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please - whoever you are, whatever your name is, you have to listen to me, you have to-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the Time Agent wasn’t listening. Shaking his head he sighed, cracked his neck and pulled something new from his belt. As he thumbed a button on the side it began to hum and he crouched down in front of her and pressed it into her ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad cop it is. Your choice.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Well it's just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to - come quietly.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”, J. K. Rowling</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It went on for hours.</p><p>The Time Agent was determined. Roda would have given him that, if it wasn’t for the searing <em> hatred </em> she felt for him, right at this moment. He was precise, relentless and even, at times, sympathetic. Throwing question after question at her like a master pitcher, seemingly never tiring, and changing tactics so casually that Roda’s head was hurting just as much as her body. But he was trying to get her to divulge information that she didn’t <em> have </em>and confess to crimes that she hadn’t committed. He could use every tool in his skill set; torture, interrogation, shouting, plea bargains. Without having the answers herself, there was nothing that she could give him.</p><p>And so she had started lying. Telling him anything that she could think of. Making up stories about how she <em>might </em>have stolen what he said she’d stolen, or how she could have hidden what she was supposed to have hidden. She had read enough books as a Time Tot - Sol-3 books like Robin Hood, Clive Cussler and Sherlock Holmes - to give her a starting point, though it wasn’t easy to remember details. Not when her nose was broken and she’d been tased enough times that she had already lost count. She had even tried admitting that he had done what he said she had done - hadn’t he said that a confession was all he wanted?</p><p>It hadn’t been enough. The blows, the shocks, the questions, they kept on coming until Roda practically had whiplash from it all. He worked as though he couldn’t see her; and perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps in his eyes she was just a suspect and a criminal, and in the Time Agency’s eyes, the end justified the means. <em> So it shouldn’t matter </em> how <em> I confess, he should just be happy with a story. </em> But he clearly cared about the truth - a truth that she couldn’t give him. Because though she could understand the technology he was waving in her face, she hadn’t stolen it, and she had never used it. And it was all some big misunderstanding, and the mental games were throwing her off so badly that she had almost forgotten who was <em> really </em>to blame for everything. She wanted out of the chair, and to get far, far away from the Boeshane Peninsula.</p><p>She looked up, clothing burned, body bruised, and saw that the Time Agent was just... watching her. The expression on his face was unreadable, and she had learned the hard way that trying to use telepathy to communicate with him got her. They both had wards up; but while Roda’s were fraying at the seams, he was consciously keeping her out. Roda took a deep breath - sweat-soaked, aching and exhausted - and fished for something else to say, but the Time Agent held up a hand to stop her. Roda flinched.</p><p>“Enough. That’s enough.”</p><p>“How - how generous of you.” She tried to hold her head up high, but scarcely had it in her.</p><p>The man studied her. His expression was dark, tense. There was sweat on his brow, too, but he seemed unmoved by Roda’s stress; not even annoyed by how long he had been grilling her for. Roda struggled to hold his gaze, shaking with a mixture of pain, anxiety and anger - like an animal expecting to be kicked - and for a moment, she fashioned she saw the side of his mouth curl up into a smirk. But the moment was gone as soon as it came, and he sighed and shook his head, powering down his taser and crossing his arms across his chest.</p><p>“Look, Redjay-”</p><p>“<em> Not </em> the Redjay,” Roda snapped, tiredly. Begging and bargaining and hurting was making her want to lash out. <em> If I wasn’t in these cuffs… well, I wouldn’t </em> beat <em> him in a fight but I would </em>try.</p><p>“This has been fun. Really, it has.”</p><p>She snorted. “If this is your idea of fun…” The taser began to thrum again and Roda back-pedaled, shaking her head. “Alright, alright.”</p><p>“I’m doing my <em> job </em> ,” said the man, darkly. “The Time Agency <em> exists </em>to protect the universe from people like you. Dangerous Time Lords who think they’re a law unto themselves.”</p><p>Something broke in Roda, then. Not a fear of the Time Agent, not concern for her life, none of the bruises and cuts, nothing at all to do with the stupid twice-damned Bank of the Peninsula. It was his comment about the Time Lords; as if she hadn’t left Gallifrey in the <em> first </em> place because of the corruption of the place she called home. The very thing that the Time Agent was damning her for, even though she had left and tried to put it all behind her, and just be a person, a single person in the universe, who could just exist without people making assumptions about who she was or what she had done or how she had grown up. And she had criticised it for years - run away from home because of how much she <em> loathed </em>the very privilege and attitude she was being painted with. </p><p>That, of all things, was the final straw.</p><p>“That’s not who I am!” she shouted, eyes flashing with rage. “Do you think I don’t <em> know </em> that Gallifrey is wrong? That saying we’re better than everyone else is <em> wrong </em> ? Why do you think I left?! Why do you think I’m here, in your <em> fucking </em> Peninsula, just trying to be a normal person - and even <em> then </em> I wind up here!” She curled her hands into fists. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I <em> found </em> the credits, I’ve never even <em> been </em> to the Peninsula before and I have no reason to - to have done <em> any </em> of the things you’re saying that I’ve done! I only just graduated, for Rassilon’s sake. I’m <em> nobody. </em> How are you too <em> blind </em>to see that?!”</p><p>Silence stretched out between them like an elastic band ready to snap. Roda swallowed, wondering if her outburst had made things better, or worse. <em> It’s hard to picture worse, right now. </em>But the Time Agent gave no indication that he was flustered, or thinking. He just stood there, expression unchangeable, and then turned his back on her. He placed his tools on the table - out of reach, but not out of sight - and rolled down his sleeves again and ran a hand through his fringe.</p><p>“I’m going to leave you alone to think,” he said, finally. Roda started to speak, but he continued over her. “If I were you, I’d make the most of it and get your stories straight.”</p><p>Roda stared in disbelief. “You have. The wrong. <em> Time Lady. </em>”</p><p>“That’s my call to make,” declared the Time Agent, playing with the spotlight until the room was doused in black. “But think about what I said. I can make your stay here better, or worse. Let me be your friend.”</p><p>“Not in a <em> thousand </em>years.”</p><p>“Fair enough. But I have <em> never </em>failed an assignment,” he promised. “And I don’t intend to start today.”</p><p>The door clunked shut behind him, and Roda was left alone.</p><p>***</p><p>“C’mon. C’mon, <em> mon ami, </em>time to wake up…”</p><p>Roda stirred, groaning and blinking into the light of a torch pointed at her face. She narrowed her eyes, wondering when - and how - she had fallen asleep. <em> How could I </em> possibly <em> have let my guard down that much? How long have I been here? </em>She expected to see the Time Agent again and braced herself for more pain and questioning. But the figure in the shadow behind the torch was the wrong height and build. As her eyes adjusted Roda could make out overgrown curly hair, tied back in a ponytail and stubble, and familiar, tired eyes watching her intently. </p><p>“What…”</p><p>The Stranger - her stranger, her strange Gallifreyan shadow - ignored her, sticking the torch between his teeth and crouching down past her knees. She strained to watch as he pulled something out of his back pocket, spun the middle pieces of it, and then aimed it at the metal shackles on Roda’s legs. They warmed up, uncomfortably so, and she bit her lip to stop from making a sound or interrupting him. She could hear the familiar sound of a sonic device, and a second later the cuffs on her legs popped open and she could have cried with relief. Her knees were stiff and sore after hours in one position, but she focused on stretching them as the Time Lord started the same thing with the cuffs on her arms.</p><p>It was then that she realised he wasn’t dressed in his usual robes, but instead a button-up shirt and a pair of jeans. As his arm crossed her field of vision to undo her other arm, she noticed the elaborate sleeve tattoo that went from the wrist of his left arm right under the sleeves of the shirt, and couldn’t help but stare. <em> Of </em> all <em> the mysteries I’ve thought up about this guy over the years, I never thought he’d have a tattoo. </em>The thought almost made her laugh, were it not for the severity of the situation. Rings went around his wrist and elbow, little quotes of Low Gallifreyan interspersed with similar lines in other languages and small pictures. She made out the word ‘Seeker’, and the arrow from a bow. A bird on the back of his elbow, and a scar underneath all the black. </p><p>But there was one tattoo on his shoulder - she could just see it, visible through a tear in the shirt - that seemed different to the rest. High Gallifreyan, not quite the same colour or texture and… it seemed important, somehow. Her vision was blurry, but as she started to squint and try and read it he pulled his arm away hurriedly and yanked down his sleeve, freeing her other arm. Roda rubbed her wrists, suspicious, but let it drop. <em> Choose your battles right now, Roda. </em></p><p>She tried to stand, tentatively testing her weight on her legs and then dropped to the ground as spasms of pain wracked her torso. Crying out despite herself she wrapped her arms around her stomach, eyes clenched tightly shut. The Stranger was on her in a second, arms wrapped around her, slinging one of hers over his shoulder as he helped her to stand and murmured reassuring words at her.</p><p>“Easy, easy.” Roda gripped his shirt in her free hand, taking in fast, sharp breaths. “It hurts, I know. Don’t breathe too deep.”</p><p>She leaned on his side, any misgivings she had had in the past forgotten. The shallow breaths helped, and despite knowing nothing at all about him, she felt more safe already.  <em> Although, how did he even know where I was…? </em>Why did he always know?</p><p>“How did you…?” She waved at the door. “The security?”</p><p>“Don’t think too hard about it.” He laughed, quietly, stroking her curls soothingly. “Probably best you figure it out later.”</p><p>“...what?”</p><p>“C’mon,” he said, hurrying over the point as he made for the door . “You have to <em> move </em> , no time to talk.” As if to himself, he mumbled: “not even meant to be talking to you <em> anyway </em>.”</p><p>“How do I know this isn’t a trick?” asked Roda, hardly believing the words herself. If it was a trick, it was an elaborate one. <em> Too </em> elaborate, even for the Time Agency. So this really <em> had </em>to be a rescue… all the same, she was tired and frightened and she had to know. “How do I know you’re not just going to open the door and - surprise! More Time Agents?”</p><p>“If you don’t hurry up,” he snorted, dragging her along as he picked up pace, “there <em> will </em>be.”</p><p>“Is that a threat?”</p><p>“Rassilon help me, were  you always this… <em> look. </em>”</p><p>The Stranger looked at the ceiling, lifting a piece of plastic that had been hanging around his neck and holding it up to the security panel at the door. It beeped and blinked, and then the door opened. Roda blinked against the light from outside the room, starting to get more steady on the legs, as the Time Lord looked up and down the corridor outside before gesturing her through it. He motioned for her to be silent and drew a gun from his belt, inching around the nearest corner and looking around it before waving her forward. Unsure what else she was supposed to do, Roda did as she was told; she didn’t want to put too much distance between them, no matter what was going on.</p><p>He gave her a reassuring smile, and then jerked his head down the corridor. Roda hesitated, expecting an ambush at any moment, and with a sigh he rested a hand on her shoulder and lowered his voice.</p><p>“I know you don’t trust me…”</p><p>“Why should I?”</p><p>“Because I fixed your TARDIS? Twice?” Roda stared. She remembered him helping her with her own modifications that one time, but was he admitting that he’d rescued her when she’d crashed, too? She’d always <em> suspected... </em> “And if you don’t move <em> now, </em> then someone is going to work out <em> those </em> video feeds,” he pointed back towards the interrogation room, and then at a camera above then, “are looping and come check on us. And <em> I </em>don’t want to be here when that happens. Do you?” Roda shook her head silently. He had saved her life. He might be saving it again. “Good. Then keep quiet and follow me.”</p><p>He led her to an elevator without breaking pace, his gun held cocked and ready to fire at any second. It was a whole other side to the Time Lord, one that Roda had never seen before. He had always been a little arrogant, cocky. Mysterious. But now he seemed like a man on a mission. He knew his way around the Time Agency like he had been there before... There was no stopping to work out which way to go, and no hesitation in his movements. She did her best to keep up with him, and tried to be as fearless as he was. But it seemed an impossible task. <em> Is he actually </em> used <em> to this sort of thing? How could </em> anyone <em> get used to this </em>?</p><p>They came to a halt in front another set of metal doors, and Roda could hardly believe that nobody had caught them, yet. She felt like she had been running for hours, but it could hardly even have been minutes. The man held the card up to another panel, to open the door again… but nothing happened.</p><p>“Shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and continued to swear. And then he looked at Roda sharply, and she raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Service elevator.” He explained. “Security level should’ve been high enough.” He yanked the badge over his head, and thrust it into Roda’s hands. “<em> Don’t </em>use this. Hold onto it.”</p><p>“Why do you have this?”</p><p>“For breaking inexperienced Time Ladies out of Time Agency interrogation rooms,” snapped the older Time Lord. “Why do you <em> think </em>?”</p><p>Incredulous ideas ran through Roda’s head as the Stranger began breaking the front off the panel of the elevator, pulling tools from his belt as he tossed it haphazardly to the floor. She settled on the only one that could possibly make sense.</p><p>“Are you the Redjay?”</p><p>The bark of laughter she got in response was so loud, Roda almost went through the roof. She glared reproachfully at the Time Lord, and gingerly touched her nose. (A bad idea, as it turned out.) Getting himself under control he shook his head and grinned, returning his attention to the mess of hanging out wires and gizmos behind the panel.</p><p>“We’re close. Hold this wire.”</p><p>Though she did what was told, Roda narrowed her eyes. “You know her? Because it’s <em> her </em> fault I’m in this mess.”</p><p>“And I’m sure they’re very sorry.”</p><p>“Then why isn’t <em> she </em>here?” Roda growled, thrusting the bundle of wires back in his face when he requested them. As he crimped two cut ends together, she heard the elevator begin to move above them. “Facing the music instead of me?”</p><p>“Because the Time Agency wants to throw them in prison?” It was not a funny joke. Roda made sure to let the Time Lord know <em> just </em>how much she didn’t appreciate it as her scowl deepened. He beamed in response, replacing the panel over the rewired electronics, and shrugged. “Bad timing?”</p><p>“Are you enjoying this?!”</p><p>“Ordinarily?” He winked. “Yes. Not today. Now,” he looked into her eyes again, pushing his gun into her hands, and pointing at the elevator. “Soon as it gets here, you get in, go to floor G2.”</p><p>“What about-?”</p><p>“Hide the gun.” Realizing he wasn’t going to let her interrupt, Roda tucked it into the waist of her trousers and tugged her shirt over her belt to conceal it. <em> If I’m not supposed to use it, </em> she couldn’t help but wonder (even if she had no idea how to fire a gun), <em> why give it to me? </em> But there was no time for questions. “Walk <em> calmly </em>to the front door, don’t look at anyone. And as soon as you’re outside, run East. Get to your TARDIS, scramble your coordinates, and get out of the Peninsula.”</p><p>“Aren’t you coming with me?”</p><p>He smirked, drew another weapon, and headed back the way they had come.</p><p>“Not today, <em> mon ami. </em>” The elevator doors began to part. “And you’re gonna need a distraction. Get ready to move.”</p><p>Roda didn’t need telling twice. With the badge around her neck and the gun tucked into her trousers, she braced herself to make a leap for the elevator as soon as the door was fully open, trusting that the Stranger could take care of himself. <em> He always had been, </em> she reassured herself, feeling as though (useless or not) she should stand and fight with him. <em> He’ll make it out alive, he </em> has <em> to. </em>But before she had a chance to move an all-too familiar, now, figure stepped out of the elevator, clearly at ease.</p><p>Roda froze, aware that she should have tried to hide, or run, or charged at him. But there was nowhere to hide in a long, largely empty corridor, and she had no idea how to use the gun she was carrying, and her legs still felt like they were rebooting from being in one place for so long. And the Time Agent who had clearly thought that nothing was wrong until that very second was much, <em> much </em>faster on the ball.</p><p>“How did you…” He shook his head, reaching for his gun within seconds. “Hands on your fucking-!”</p><p>She didn’t think about what she was doing - she just shouted. Loudly, angrily and aimlessly she raised her voice and threw herself at the Time Agent, causing them both to stumble backwards into the open elevator and hit the floor. The whole box shuddered with the impact, but Roda found herself on top, and was about to cry out a warning to the Stranger as she tried to work out what in <em> Skaro </em>she was supposed to do next when a foot slammed into the rapidly closing doors, causing them to bounce open again.</p><p>“Get up!” snapped the Stranger, trying to shoo Roda out of the way.</p><p>She scrambled off the Time Agent and into the wall just in time for the other Time Lord to grab the man by the collar, and yank him out of the elevator. Roda could have cried with relief as she tried to pull herself quickly to her feet, but she saw the Time Agent’s elbow connect squarely with her rescuer’s gut, and winced in sympathy. As she tried to jump forward and intervene - <em> surely two against one is better odds? </em>- the Time Agent slammed him against the wall, drawing his gun and reaching for his ear. </p><p>“Watch out!”</p><p>Roda stuck her arm through the door, trying to get it to open again, but the Time Lord was doing fine on his own. He slammed his forehead into the side of the Time Agent’s head, and even <em> Roda </em>heard the static scream of feedback as the audio device was smashed. The Time Agent ripped it from his ear, stamping down on it hard to shut it up, and fired off a shot that smashed into the walls of the corridor. Roda tried to reach for the Stranger but he shook his head, closing one eye and aiming his weapon for the panel again. She pulled her arm back just in time to avoid getting hit.</p><p>“I’ll be fine!” The Time Agent tackled him to the ground and then spun around, eyes wide and frantic as his gaze settled on Roda once again. She didn’t like that look in his face. The buttons controlling the elevator crackled and fizzled uselessly, promising that nobody could follow her. “G2! <em> Go</em>!”</p><p>In a split second decision, Roda nodded and slammed her hand onto the right button, hoping against hope that the door would shut properly. <em> He’ll be fine, he </em> has <em> to be. </em>The Time Agent narrowed his eyes as he raised his gun once again, and Roda made to shout out a warning. A second too late she realised where he was aiming. Though she threw herself to the side of the elevator, hoping to use the closing doors as cover, she wasn’t quick enough.</p><p>The first shot hit the back of the elevator, slicing through her shoulder and ricocheting off something painful. As she cried out and lost her balance - landing, <em> hard, </em>on the arm that had taken the hit - the second bullet hit her in the clavicle and knocked her down. The bad arm wasn’t taking her weight, and she could feel blood soaking her shirt. Eyes tightly shut she pressed her hand to her shoulder, almost hyperventilating. The doors finally shut, and she heard one - two - three more bullets slam into the door, denting it where they impacted, as the elevator (achingly slowly) began to rise.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“I feel like I am involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell me the rules, and who smiles all the time.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- “Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch”,  Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crossing the Courtyard of the Time Agency’s Headquarters - dishevelled, covered in her own blood and apparently, a wanted criminal - took every inch of willpower that Roda had, as well as embracing every lecture she had ever heard and hated about Time Lord superiority just to keep her head up high. Still, she managed it. And as soon as she hit the pavement, she grit her teeth and ignored the pain and the blood loss and the terror and hit the ground running East.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was too dizzy to think about if the Stranger was anywhere behind her, or if he was dead. She was in too much pain to notice if she’d started running too soon, and set off any kind of alarm. All of her energy was put into putting one foot in front of the other, as quickly as she could manage, and heading for the park. She pushed past people who shouted obscenities (and even one or two who tried to stop her, who managed to notice the blood) but she did her best to ignore them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just get to the TARDIS, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she told herself, her body already beginning to flag. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get to the TARDIS, scramble, run, go home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Going home was the only chance she had at not regenerating, she knew. Because even without having paid attention in Gallifreyan Physiology, she knew she was losing blood, and too fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her body tingled, in a way that she had never felt before. In a way, the pain was fading, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was what scared her the most. The arm that she’d been shot in was completely numb, and the bleeding didn’t seem to be slowing at all. (It seemed like a bullet to the shoulder shouldn’t have done as much damage as it had, but then… she didn’t know what the Time Agent had hit her with. And she’d fallen on the arm, afterwards; had that made it worse? For a moment, delirium threatened to take over as she realised that if the Time Agency had really wanted a blood sample, then now there was plenty of fresh blood all over the elevator.)  Her clavicle was still throbbing, but she wondered if she had damaged a nerve. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How many Time Lords die, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she tried to remember from half-forgotten lectures, </span>
  <em>
    <span>because their first regeneration goes wrong?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But when she breathed out - respiratory bypass the only thing keeping her going - it wasn’t condensation she saw, but licks of gold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Regeneration energy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she realised with horror. Like when the Stranger had healed her when she’d crashed her TARDIS nearly thirty years ago. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will I even reach Gallifrey in time? Is this it? Is this my first regeneration? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, she was alive. She had escaped; or at least, been set free. There didn’t seem to be anyone following her, though she suspected plenty of people would have alerted the authorities by now, for one reason or another. And if her memory served her, then the park wasn’t too far away, and the gun was burning a hole in her waist as a reminder that if she got intercepted, she could shoot her way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that thought, on its own, was devastating enough. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When did shooting my way out of a mess start to feel like an option?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The perception filter on her TARDIS key had kept the Time Agency from finding it, and with bloody fingers Roda fumbled it out from under her shirt as the right tree finally came into sight. But before she could get the key in the door the TARDIS swung it open, beckoning her in. A small smile crossed Roda’s face for just a moment, until she heard the cloister bell. Her face fell as the door slammed shut behind her - the lights of the console room dimmed as the ship went into emergency power - and it was all that she could do to stumble over to the console itself and type in the coordinates for Gallifrey on auto-pilot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sank to the ground, resting her back against the rising and falling centre-piece of the console as the brakes disengaged and the ship entered the vortex. The chameleon circuit would have deactivated, and so everyone in the park would have seen the chassis before she took off… a clear breach of the non-interference policy… but she couldn’t find it in her to care. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the  tingling glowing and the heat of the golden energy on her skin, and as much as she tried to bite down on her lip and keep it at bay, she knew that all she was doing was dragging out the inevitable. Tears sprung unbidden to her eyes, and she tried weakly to wipe them away, pressing down hard on her shoulder still, furious not just with the Time Agent, but with herself, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Running away home because you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>scared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid, </span>
  </em>
  <span>stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>mistake. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda felt like a stupid, arrogant Time Tot. For twenty eight years she’d swanned around the universe like she was invincible, and where had it gotten her? Bleeding out on the floor of her TARDIS with her tail between her legs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least if I knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>why </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was dying, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. Maybe I’d not feel like such a failure. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But it felt like a silly accident; regenerating because of a mistaken identity, or because she’d fallen prey to letting some criminal frame her for a crime she hadn’t committed. At least if it was something she’d done herself, she’d know why it was happening. But it seemed so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pointless</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she wanted to scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her TARDIS was trying to talk to her; reassure her, ask what had happened. It had probably known something was wrong all the time she’d been in custody… Roda pressed her bloody hand - the one not trying to hold in her own life - against the console, trying to find the strength for platitudes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’fine… I’m fine. We’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it the truth? She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t even know </span>
  <em>
    <span>where </span>
  </em>
  <span>on Gallifrey she had put in coordinates for; just that it had come to her as easy as breathing, and that she would be safe there. The Time Agency had no jurisdiction there. There would be medicae who could help her there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The journey took hours, and seconds. By the time they landed in Gallifrey, Roda had begun to filter out the cloister bell. It was background noise; a constant reminder of how big a mistake she had made. Her own hearts were beating louder, but far slower, and no longer keeping proper pace with one another. The world was blurry, it was too cold for the inside of a time machine that was supposed to be climate-regulated, and it was all that she could do to use the console to pull herself to her feet, and check the coordinates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her memory hadn’t failed her; this was Gallifrey. But what surprised her was where her subconscious had told her to land. Pressed, she would have imagined that she’d aimed for the TARDIS docks; after all, it was the only place in Gallifrey she had ever launched from. But the video feed outside showed a far more familiar location. She had landed in the courtyard of Rassilon’s quarters, a place she had looked out the window at throughout all of her tothood, but visited only a handful of times. A small, circular inner chamber, with the light of Gallifrey’s sun beaming down on it, and she had never been happier to see it. Well-kept plants ringed the orange stone, and if she’d been feeling better, she would probably have been able to make out what had once been her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hundred different emotions went through her mind. Confusion, exhaustion and… relief. It must have been the one place her mind thought of, deep down, when she thought of going home. Which meant that perhaps she had been gone long enough that she had forgiven Rassilon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she couldn’t lie; she felt joy, too, despite everything that had happened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Safety. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She had lived with Rassilon for nearly three hundred years. Grown up around him, under his rule and in an inner sanctum that scarcely any other Time Lord ever entered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He saved my life, when I was an idiot Tot. And he’ll know to find Peri… </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he had a Zero Room, and knowledge of Time Lords that nobody else would ever have. If anyone could help, it was him. He would be angry… but he would protect her. He had, through all his judgement and criticism, always done that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had raised her. This was home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It gave her the final push to find her feet, as the walls of her regeneration began to crumble. Roda grit her teeth and stumbled to the door - completely unsure what to say, but convinced that now, it would be okay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be okay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was no longer a lie to reassure herself, to reassure her TARDIS. She pushed the door open - already trying to remember the fastest way to his study or his workshop, the barriers in her mind that she’d raised in the Time Agency lowering in a weak, silent greeting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could never have imagined what greeted her in the courtyard in a hundred, a thousand, a million years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ras… Rassilon!” Stumbling forward, Roda took hold of her guardian’s arm, relief washing over her in waves. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did he sense me coming? Did I set off some alarm? I must have… </span>
  </em>
  <span>She managed a smile, even as she felt her body begin to let go. “I’ve never been… so </span>
  <em>
    <span>grateful</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see you,” it was only his hand on hers that held her upright, but Roda didn’t care. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Safety.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I’ll be fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I - I made a mistake…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rodageitmososa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon’s hand gripped her firmly, keeping her on her feet. His other hand was wrapped around his staff. Roda felt her head drop, defences down for the first time in years. It was all she could too to keep her eyes open. But he was gripping her tightly. Too tightly. She winced, smile wavering awkwardly. It was nothing compared to the agony of beginning to regenerate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It.. Skaro, it hurts.” She half laughed, almost embarrassed. “Does it always </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>? They never told us it would hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should not have returned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ras-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Rassilon let go of her arm as though it burned him Roda fell backwards, only just managing to catch herself on the half-open door of her TARDIS. She held onto it with shaking hands as they began to glow properly, tendons and bones moving and breaking and realigning. Her eyes widened not just in pain but in shock, emotional hurt as Rassilon looked down at her as if her agony meant nothing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought that he… that I… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>«</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rassilon,</span>
  </em>
  <span>» she said, mentally, begging, «</span>
  <em>
    <span>I need </span>
  </em>
  <span>help</span>
  <em>
    <span>! I came - I came to </span>
  </em>
  <span>you! </span>
  <em>
    <span>They - I got hurt. I got hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>really </span>
  <em>
    <span>badly...</span>
  </em>
  <span>»</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She caught a glimpse of the gauntlet on his other hand a second too late to even try and react. The glove sizzled, blue sparks dancing around it. Roda didn’t - </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t -</span>
  </em>
  <span> understand. Her back arched as she gripped the TARDIS door tight enough to leave scratches on its surface, and felt the time machine wince in sympathy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hurts… </span>
  </em>
  <span>But the TARDIS realised what was happening a second before she did and tried to warn her as Roda looked up at Rassilon pleadingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t his gauntlet that struck her but his staff. Roda felt backwards into her TARDIS as the butt of the heavy wooden staff slammed into her aching shoulder, knocking her prone. She saw stars, as if she’d just been shot all over again. The wind went out of her and her head bounced and slammed against the TARDIS floor as Rassilon stepped in after her and stood over her. He pressed the bloody staff against her chest, against her slowing hearts, and the world began to fall apart. Power still fizzed around him, and she felt her TARDIS’ fury surge protectively, for all the help it would do her. But Roda herself had no power left to talk or shout, or push or understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>«</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why...</span>
  </em>
  <span>»</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon’s words came to her as if in a dream as hope fell away and regeneration claimed her in a furious, fiery embrace. Still held down by the staff she half curled in on herself, her wounded clavicle pressed against the wood as her body contorted into unnatural positions. Ribs screamed, and so did she. More pairs of feet pounded into her TARDIS at a run, faceless, high-collared bodies shielding themselves from the light as she burned. And the Lord President of Gallifrey, Roda’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>guardian</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the stability of her childhood, the only family she had, stood unwavering over her and watched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even answer her question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arrest her.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <i>“This I have seen, Lord of Gallifrey, Master of Prydon.” Her eyes almost glowed, and he leaned over her in anticipation. “When the sky is new and the stars uncharted, the child will return, but not to home.” The Visionary paused, eyes widening. “They will return with broken hearts, as it is said, and the guardian-”</i>
</p><p><i>“Will fall to ruin….”</i><br/>- <b><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713218/chapters/68081266#workskin">This I Have Seen, Lord of Gallifrey</a></b></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"First loves are often terrible, probably because they are first and there is no conscious history into which they may be absorbed."</i>
  <br/>
  <b>―Siri Hustvedt, A Plea for Eros: Essays</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nothing made sense anymore. There was no yardstick by which to measure any value of her life, and Rodageitmososa no longer knew what to do, what to say or what to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lay on her back in a small, windowless room, staring at the force fields that made up the walls. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not a room, really, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, absently. Even thinking no longer made sense. A whole different mind, a whole different set of thoughts. It was a quantum fold chamber. Bigger on the inside, empty but for a table and a bed and a room to relieve herself, with etchings of High Gallifreyan all over what pretended to be windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could see other chambers, opposite her own, all of them empty. And she knew, too - had paid enough attention to the kind of Time Lord technology that made up a quantum fold chamber and a TARDIS alike - that she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>see the other cells, not really. Because the windows weren’t there, not really. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not really windows. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just an illusion, a projection, a trick of quantum mechanics. Wherever her cell really was, she couldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>begin </span>
  </em>
  <span>to guess.</span>
</p><p>It wasn’t just the chamber that was strange and impossible to comprehend. Her own mind didn’t work the way it used to work, and her body felt removed from who she felt she was. Too tall, too long, hair too straight, eyes the wrong colour. And sharper vision, too, even though she had nothing much to look at but a nondescript prison cell on a planet she called home, where she’d thought that somebody would help her.</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulder ached. Everything else felt fine; in a way, that simultaneously, everything else felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine at all. ‘Disassociation’, they called it in the textbooks she had been forced to memorize as a Tot. A common symptom of people who had experienced their first regenerative period without adequate mental support. Like in Eighth Man Bound it was entirely avoidable, and entirely common, and entirely a mess. And she knew, deep down - she seemed to be more logical than she remembered being before - that to ‘snap out of it’ she just needed some time to get to know who she was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she felt like time’s bitch, at the moment. Completely and utterly beaten down and lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody had given her answers. She didn’t know why her shoulder still hurt, even though she had regenerated. (But she suspected it had something to do with the shock from Rassilon’s de-mat gauntlet, travelling down his staff. Another splinter of pain in a mind wracked with confusion.) She didn’t know why she’d been called ‘the Redjay’. She didn’t know why she had been arrested by the Time Agency, or why the Castellan and his guard had thrown her in a quantum fold chamber. She didn’t know why Rassilon had </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>her, after all the trust she had put in him. She didn’t know she had thought that she could trust him, and she didn’t know why she still did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know why she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it all had to be some terrible, ridiculous, hilarious-later-on mistake. Deep in her bones, she knew that it wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she stared at the not-windows of her cell, and tried not to think and to think at the same time. Somebody had dressed the wound in her shoulder and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>successfully regenerated, so she supposed she at least had that in her favour. And this was a Time Lord prison, not a Time Agency one. Ostensibly, she was safer, here. Here on Gallifrey, it could all turn out to be a misunderstanding. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone has to come and explain why they’re holding me eventually… right? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roda…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When someone finally interrupted her thoughts, Roda had utterly lost track of time and sense. For at least a few hours, she had been talking to herself; trying to get accustomed to how her voice sounded, now. At some point in the days - days? - since she had woken up in the cell, she had slept. (It seemed like the only control she had left to her, and it wasn’t like there was anything to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a prison cell. She didn’t exactly have a book to bury herself in, or enough room to swing a Gallifreyan cat.) She had slept quite a lot, tired out from running and interrogations and pain and regeneration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all she’d had to keep her company was a cacophony of roiling thoughts and too much time not to second-guess everything that she had ever done. Was she here because of the Time Agency? For running away? Throwing her collar at Rassilon? The Shobogans? For all she knew, it could have been for a failed exam. And so when she realised that somebody was standing outside the quantum fold chamber and talking to her, it took Roda a few seconds to decide she hadn’t gotten so bored that she had conjured up a hallucination for conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t help that the hallucination was somebody she had not expected to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peri?” Roda scrambled to her feet, almost speechless from disbelief. And then for a minute, despair and confusion were washed away, and all she could do was laugh and grin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Peri. </span>
  </em>
  <span>After everything that she had been through, there was no better face in the universe than that of her oldest, bestest friend. “Peri, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood as close as she dared to the force field, just inches from him and yet miles away. His mind was </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>close enough for her to touch, reaching out to find him, for comfort and closeness. But she wanted to touch him, hold him, really feel him. She needed it more than anything, she realised; to fall back into the ease and common sense of her Tothood, when all she had ever wanted was Peri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the look on his face was sad. Distant, almost. When she brushed against his mind - loving and lost and in need of someone - it was hard not to notice the slight way he flinched. The distance between their minds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Neither of us are who we used to be…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roda’s expression faltered, and she reached out her fingers towards his, heedless off the force field. It crackled when she touched it, but it didn’t hurt. But she couldn’t take his hand, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roda…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, wanting nothing more than to get through to him. To explain. “I don’t know,” she explained, brow furrowed. “I was hurt - I got shot, they thought I was someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re saying you’re going on </span>
  <em>
    <span>trial,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” said Peri, voice tight. “Here, on Gallifrey. You have no idea the strings I had to pull to get to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Roda protested, trying to catch his eyes. “I came here because I was hurt. I came home because-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been gone for more than a century, Roda.” Peri interrupted her, his expression hurt. Roda stared; she had aimed for Gallifrey, but not a year. She shook her head, immediately understanding his hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just twenty eight years, for me. I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Peri. I got the dates wrong, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you left,” he argued, wearily. “Took your TARDIS and ran away. And you didn’t even say goodbye…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda took a step back, the pain in Peri’s voice so visceral and cutting that all she wanted to do was break down the barriers of her cell and hold him in her arms and tell him she was sorry. Even her own anxiety no longer mattered. Peri was hurt, and it was her fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had never stopped loving him - as a friend, a lover, and once again a friend. But she had never called, never sent a hypercube, done nothing to get in touch since the day she’d left. One hand moved up and covered her mouth as the guilt clawed at her heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was so selfish… and he’s still here for me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peri…” she sniffled, eyes stinging as she tried not to let herself cry. “I didn’t mean to… it just sort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I was angry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>angry, Roda!” He raised his voice, then, throwing his hands in the air. “That’s your problem. You let people get to you and you get angry and then you do stupid things and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t like I did it on purpose!” snapped Roda, despite herself. “Rassilon, he-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They said you assaulted him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda snorted in disbelief. “I threw my collar at him! </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>hit </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And I still thought that all would be forgiven between us, that time would heal all wounds. You stupid, </span>
  </em>
  <span>stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>Time Lady, Roda. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to be gone so long, but you didn’t hear what he said to me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it enough to run away?” asked Peri. Roda felt as though she had been slapped. Where was the Peri who had held her and told her that Rassilon was too hard on her? That she was important? “You’re a Time Lord, you should have stayed and talked about… whatever it was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant to come straight back. But I crashed my TARDIS, and there was the stranger, and the Shobogans-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri’s eyes widened in shock and horror. “The - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shobogans</span>
  </em>
  <span>!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then I wanted to get away for a bit, clear my head. Let Raz cool down-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raz- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lord Rassilon.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there was so much out there, Peri! So much to see,” Roda smiled, “so much that I wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember </span>
  </em>
  <span>so I could show you. It should have been the two of us,” she concluded, quietly. “Just you and me, like we always said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have responsibilities, Roda. Like you had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of that right now!” Roda shook her head again, hands balled into fists at her side. “Can’t we just forget about that? Talk?” She looked around the chamber, as if on a hundredth search, she could work out where the door was. No luck. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Talk </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me, Peri! I’m sorry. I should have come back sooner. I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Peri sighed, and then deflated. His anger drained away. “I missed you too, Roda. Every week, for the first few years you were gone. And then I realised you were never coming back…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m back now,” she said, softly, holding out her palm. But he shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re convening the Council, Roda. The whole Citadel.” He looked right at her, eyes wounded. “What did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I trust you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then tell me what you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I did!” Roda dropped her wrongly-shaped face into too-big hands. “I thought if I came home, I could figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She told him everything. The credit stick, visiting the Boeshane Peninsula, going to the Capitol. She fudged the details of letting go like a Tot like a candy store, and when she talked about the Time Agent attacking her, arresting her, she almost faltered over her words. Peri just stood there and listened as she told him how she’d been mistaken for somebody else, and all the things that they had supposedly done. But when she said the name ‘Redjay’ - before she could explain how the Stranger had broken her out, how she had been shot and had run - Peri’s shock turned into a frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrung his hands, looking away. Roda paused, curious and concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Redjay…” Peri shook his head. “You said that. Years ago.”</span>
</p><p>Roda blinked. “I didn’t… when?”</p><p>
  <span>“Years ago. When you let Selesion get to you and you played that </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>game…” Peri winced. “You were - it was like you weren’t you. And you were reciting the poem, just like anybody else, and then you went stock still and you said that name. ‘Redjay’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda’s eyes darted back and forth in thought. “That… it must be because of this!” She pointed at her new body. “It’s their fault I regenerated. She’s who they thought I was, I must have heard her name in the trance, it was a warning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then tell them that,” at least one weight seemed to lift from Peri’s shoulder, which was a relief. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always worrying about me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roda gave him a weak smile. “If you just explain that it’s all a mistake - maybe the Time Agency called the CIA. Maybe that’s what happened, why Lord Rassilon-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” whispered Roda, holding up her hand. That memory was too fresh, too hard to understand. “Just… forget about him. But they </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to listen, right? It’s not like I’m lying, I’m telling the truth. I didn’t steal anything; I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>robbed a bank.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I’ll talk to the Kitriarch of my House,” said Peri, finally. “He’s on the Council. It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda held her hand in front of the window, palm up. After a brief hesitation, Peri did the same from the other side. Roda smiled.</span>
</p><p>“You’re always looking after me, Perigraphaltas.”</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I do,” he said, softly. “Because clearly without me, you get into trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… apparently what I do.” Roda sighed. “Maybe not in this body?” She stepped back, sizing herself up. Peri, she noticed, was doing the same, his eyes lingering on her shoulder. “Maybe this time I’ll have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>modicum</span>
  </em>
  <span> of common sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” said Peri, dryly. “Quantum fold chamber. Not a good start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” smirked Roda. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>can joke about that, you can’t. Not until it’s over, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” Roda gave a tired sigh. “It’s fine. I’m just a bit…” she pointed at her body, and the cell, and her shoulder. “It’s been a… hard couple of days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri paused, and then turned away. For a moment, Roda’s hearts sank. Was he leaving? Without saying anything? It was about as much as she deserved for abandoning him, but she had really hoped he’d stay… but then she heard him talking with someone that she couldn’t see. She couldn’t quite make out everything he was saying, but she heard ‘medic’ and ‘assessment’. There was a response she couldn’t hear at all, and then Peri disappeared from view and came back with a bag over his shoulder, and waited at the threshold of the force field. It beeped, the Gallifreyan words warping and changing, and then he stepped through and into her cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda had no doubt that it wouldn’t be so easy for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>to cross.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told them you needed a check-up,” he said, hurriedly whispering. “For your regeneration.” Roda shot him a grateful smile, trying not to be too obvious as he closed the distance between them. “But I want to look at that shoulder, and…” he reached out, and squeezed her hand. “I thought you might need a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri guided her onto the bed once again and Roda - who was otherwise completely done with being guided and directed and prodded and hit anywhere - let him. She sat down with a tired sigh, letting Peri peel away her clothing from her shoulder (somebody had put her back in Prydonian robes) and the dressing. He was gentle, attentive - like he had been, back when they were lovers - and Roda tried to let her hackles down. She could trust Peri… but she was hurting, in more ways than one. As he searched through his tools for Omega only knew what she closed her eyes, and did her best not to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri made an unappreciative noise as he looked at her shoulder, and Roda opened one eye to watch him. He raised an eyebrow, concern all over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were shot </span>
  <em>
    <span>after </span>
  </em>
  <span>you regenerated?” Roda shook her head. Peri’s frown deepened. “Because you- did you fall on your arm?” Roda nodded. “There’s secondary trauma, here, to the subclavian artery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so.” Roda stuck out her tongue. “It fucking hurts, is what there is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But a regeneration should have dealt with that. Someone has repaired the damage, but it’s surgical. It’s going to take a few weeks until you have full movement in that arm again.” If anything, Peri seemed confused, and also a little fascinated. Roda reached out to touch him again, careful not to jar his hands. It was like watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>Peri all over again, but she knew he wasn’t that anymore. “I don’t understand. This is… well, something went wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda pulled a face. “If there was trauma…. to the shoulder?” She didn’t want to explain what had happened when she landed in Rassilon’s courtyard. “Like, mid-regeneration. A… shock.”</span>
</p><p>“If something stimulated the cells,” said Peri, biting the inside of his cheek, “then perhaps it could trigger an abnormality…”</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I never </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>do things traditionally,” joked Roda, darkly. “Look on the bright side, you can study me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri looked at her in disbelief. “Roda… you’re about to go on trial. They’re trying to keep it quiet, but there’s so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>gossiping</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you’re telling me to look on the bright side?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of us has to,” she said, slowly. As he applied a fresh dressing to her shoulder she reached out, interlacing her fingers with his. “And apparently I’m making a mess of things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri rested his forehead against hers for as long as he dared, and kissed her softly on the cheek. When he let his hand slip from hers, Roda’s hand stayed waiting in the air. He looked over his shoulder, and she knew, obviously, that he couldn’t linger. Especially not if she was in trouble </span>
  <em>
    <span>again…</span>
  </em>
  <span> though she couldn’t quite see how. But Skaro, did she want him to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to rewind the clock, to before she had graduated. Have another try and life, and not mess up again. But they were not allowed, and it couldn’t be, not without causing a paradox on a scale she couldn’t even imagine. And so she was faced with waiting for the consequences of the decisions she had made… and despite all of her boiling emotions, it didn’t seem like she’d made the right ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be at the trial,” said Peri, finally. Roda looked at him, and then looked at her knees. “I promise. And I’ll try and get my Kitriarch to speak for you. Others in the Chapter, too. I have some connections, now, they’ll-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peri…” Roda chewed her lip. “Just don’t do anything that gets you in here too, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked, half-heartedly. “Don’t worry. I think I can behave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all too soon she was alone again, in the second prison cell in as many days, with no more answers than she had had before...</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“It is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>— Aristotle</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If she had been overwhelmed by the Panopticon and the Council chambers as a Tot, it turned out to be nothing at all compared to how minuscule she felt in the Courtroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt to Roda as if she had never seen so many Time Lords collected in one place before. Red, blue, gold, green, fuschia. Lords and Ladies of every Chapter seemed to be crowded into the immense, echoing chamber; a faceless ocean of audience and judge and jury alike. They stretched out into the distance beyond how far she could see, into a mythical darkness that had no end. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why are they all here? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She couldn’t begin to comprehend it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why am </span>
  </em>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>here? Why does all of Gallifrey seem to be here to see me fall?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She felt like instead of being in a court of law - being given the chance to explain herself, to show the Council that everything had been misunderstood - she was instead being made a spectacle of. An example. But an example of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the same, she could ignore the audience. It was the Council surrounding her, looming over her from their high seats, that held her gaze. She had thought, when she was told there would be a trial, that it would be just the Council. A handful of Time Lords, an inquiry, an intimate affair. Not… all of this. The Council seemed above her in more than just the literal sense. Above the whole whatever-it-was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uncaring. Clinical. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But she knew all of their names, all of their political machinations and inclinations. The last time she had seen any of them had been the day she and Rassilon had argued, and she had tried to convince the Council that people like Odell and Sax and Bren had every right to a square meal as they did. And it had not gone well, to say the least; thinking on that day gave her little reassurance for the events that were to come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Council sat above her, a half-moon of condemnation penning her in. But it was Castellan Temia who had led her into the chambers, hands bound, and who stood sentinel behind her now, with two of his Chancellory Guards on either side. There was a force field around the base of the podium on which she stood, stopping her from moving away and yet they were still treating her like a criminal. A dangerous thing! Roda rubbed her wrists now that they were freed of the isomorphic manacles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The strangest thing to her was how the whole affair seemed orchestrated not for justice, but for performance. Demonstration. A force field, three armed Time Lords surrounding her, gossip echoing all around them… it felt as though she had already been judged and found wanting, and that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to look that way. And she couldn’t fight the feeling that for all Peri’s optimism that she just had to explain, this was… not going to go well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked for Rassilon at his seat amongst the Council, but he wasn’t there. She looked for Peri in the crowd, but there were too many shadowed places. And she looked for Rodageitmososa, tried to find her inside of herself, but she didn’t feel like she belonged, at that moment in time. It was like she was an outsider looking in on what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposedly </span>
  </em>
  <span>her own life, but Rodageitmososa was not a criminal to be locked and guarded and feared… </span>
  <em>
    <span>am I? Is that what they all think? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The wait was agonizing. Worse, somehow, than being shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuffling from foot to foot, Roda went over and over in her head - again and again, and again for good measure - what she had to say. She had to explain her innocence. Glancing at the guards out of the corner of her eye, it felt as though she had her work cut out for her. But she had the truth on her side, surely? And if she could just get Rassilon and the rest of the Council to </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen </span>
  </em>
  <span>then she could explain that. There would be the Matrix - she could show them the truth in that, if she had to. It would all be there in an indelible record, as clear as the suns would rise. But she had to keep her cool, and that was the most important thing. If she shouted or argued, or was anything but polite, she could be dismissed out of hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except… she wouldn’t be, would she? She wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>lying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was all a mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda looked over her shoulder at Temia, remembering the first day she had met him. When he had come to the Library, and told her that her father was dead. He had intimidated her then, and though she thought, now, that he constantly had a stick up his arse, he still intimidated her today. There was something about the Castellan that she had never exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she had never been able to put her finger on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing her looking he cleared his throat, eyes dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The criminal will keep her eyes forward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I,” Roda blinked, thrown. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>criminal</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Castellan, you’ve known me since I was eight.” She gestured at the Time Lord on her left. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>makes terrible puns and guards Lord Rassilon’s chambers! You know my name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The criminal will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” insisted the Castellan, lifting his arm so that Roda would see the weapon holstered there. Remembering all too clearly the memory of being hit, beaten, tased and shot, Roda shut her mouth. “I would not push my luck if I were you, Rodageitmososa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she muttered, too quiet enough for anyone else to hear as she looked forward again. “So </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>at least aren’t calling me Redjay. That’s a start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just as she was running over her defence again and beginning to wonder if she should start counting tiles on the ground to stop herself from going mad that she saw the Guard suddenly stand to attention. Roda froze, looking around until she saw the source of both the commotion in the audience and the diligence of the Guard. Just behind the stands where the Council sat, a door had opened, and Roda didn’t need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>the figure walking through it to know who it was. She knew the </span>
  <em>
    <span>click click click </span>
  </em>
  <span>of Rassilon’s staff on the ground as well as she knew her own heartbeats. Military, constant, clockwork. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Once I’d been happy to hear it. Then it became a warning. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now, it sounded like danger. He climbed the stairs to his immense chair in the middle of the Council and - silencing the room by just raising his arms - took his seat and looked-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. The worst thing was that he looked down, but not at her. He didn’t even meet her eyes. Roda swallowed, hard, and waited for him to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Lords, my Ladies…!” His voice boomed out around the amphitheatre, echoing off the walls and silencing even the most persistent of whispering. “People of Gallifrey…!” He leaned forward in his chair, commanding the room. “It is with heavy hearts that I convene this court today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he looked at her. It was all that Roda could do not to flinch. It was not heavy hearts she saw in his eyes but anger, seething and raw. Anger like nothing she had ever seen before, no matter how much she had disappointed him. Her hand rose unbidden to her injured shoulder, and some primal instinct in her told her to put distance between them even while her mind fought back with anger and betrayal. But she kept her mouth shut and looked at him, feeling small again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rassilon…” she whispered, drowning in his disapproval. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he kept on talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rodageitmososa, of the Chapter Prydonius, last of the House of Meyerodeon...” Roda grimaced. “You have been brought here today to answer for your misdeeds not just on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gallifrey,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but throughout all of time and space.” Roda’s mouth opened and shut - she had no words, no idea what to say. “You stand accused of no less than forty-seven breaches of the non-interference policy,” Roda stared, “countless felonies in the eyes of the Shadow Proclamation and Time Agency-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, I haven’t-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silence!!” Rassilon’s roar of answer was loud enough for Roda to bring her arms up instinctively, as though she’d been struck. Spittle flew from his lips, and his eyes were aflame. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood Roda shut her mouth, and listened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve learned my lesson. Trust nobody. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Insolent child! Worse than all of these,” he continued, shaking his head and looking away from her to address the crowd with a sweep of his arm, “you stand accused of High Treason against the Lord President of Gallifrey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world went out from underneath her. This was more than a misunderstanding. This was… she didn’t even have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>words </span>
  </em>
  <span>for how wrong he was, and how fucked she was. How could she- what had she- who had- her mind scrambled to complete thoughts and fell short, short circuited from the sheer disbelief of what she had just heard Rassilon say. It could have been seconds or minutes or hours, and she still hadn’t found a single word to say when Rassilon’s staff slammed against the floor, and she realised that he was still speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How plead you, Rodageitmososa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It should have been the easiest thing to answer, but Roda couldn’t even find the words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How do you plead innocent when the charge is so completely beyond your understanding? </span>
  </em>
  <span>And if she said that she was innocent - which she was! - and then it turned out that there was some rule that she’d broken that she wasn’t aware of? (Although it seemed hard to imagine one could </span>
  <em>
    <span>accidentally </span>
  </em>
  <span>commit at least forty seven crimes in the space of twenty eight years…) What then? How much more trouble would she be in </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>? She was no lawyer; that Rassilon had expected her to ever be a politician was even more laughable. And yet she had to defend herself against claims that she wanted to dismiss out of hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not guilty!” she responded, with every ounce of confidence that she could muster. There was a buzz of voices behind her, and she heard Temia scoff, but she continued, pouring on the honey. “Lord President, Council... there has to be some kind of misunderstanding. I haven’t knowingly done </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found that the more she spoke, the more irritated she got. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This shouldn’t even be happening. I should be talking to Rassilon privately, explaining what’s going on, not defending myself in front of half of Gallifrey! </span>
  </em>
  <span>She tried not to think it too loud, not to let her frustration show on her face or in her surface thoughts, but she wasn’t sure how good a job she was doing. At least when the Time Agent had been accusing her, he’d made it quite clear where she stood…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her comment seemed to annoy Rassilon, too. It was a small reaction, barely noticeable to somebody who hadn’t known him well enough. But Roda saw the line of his mouth tighten, and the way that he gripped his staff. It was his unimpressed look - the ‘I am disappointed in you, Rodageitmososa’ look - and he was trying to keep his temper in check as much as she was.</span>
</p><p><span>“Very well,” he said, finally, his expression composed. </span><em><span>Ever the politician… </span></em><span>Roda bit down a sigh.</span> <span>“Then we shall proceed with the evidence…”</span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A short chapter, but a good cliffhanger for more to come. We're... kind of in the end-game, now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"It doesn't have to be entirely accurate."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Like Time Lord history."</i>
  <br/>
  <b>- Doctor Who, The Deadly Assassin</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They began with the report from the Time Agency. Some clerk or another read it verbatim from a data tablet, completely devoid of any emotion. As though they didn't have any particular opinion about which way that her farce of a trial would go, and instead had simply been paid to say words and would be on their way when they were done. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Back to a happy family in their perfectly normal Chapter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, thought Roda bitterly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>where nobody will ever shoot them, hit them with a staff, throw them in a cell and then accuse them of crimes that they had never committed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She kept her mouth shut as the clinical list of laws broken and actions done were read out, and barely flinched when it spoke of how the agent who had apprehended her had 'shot her twice in the torso region, in self defence, after escape from custody with the aid of an unknown accomplice'. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, they had to let her have her say when they were done, but there was nothing that Roda could do outside of repeating that she hadn't, in fact, done what the report said that she had done. It wasn't as though she could explain what the mysterious and unseen Redjay had actually done, in order to clear her name. There wasn't even, really, an alternative side of events that she could share except to point out that 'self defence' was a bit of a joke, since she hadn't been armed. And when she had pointed that out, the Castellan had produced the gun that her Stranger had given her, 'found on her person when apprehended entering the Lord President's private residence'. Which had not, exactly, been easy to explain without admitting that she knew her not-an-accomplice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they had moved onto reports from other agencies. More reports from the Time Agency, a statement from the Bank of the Peninsula. A list of felonies with which she had been charged by the Shadow Proclamation that - by dint of having committed </span>
  <em>
    <span>none </span>
  </em>
  <span>of them - were so unknown to her that she had no idea how to defend against them. Minor planetary law enforcements in systems that she had never really heard of, most of which she had never visited. One particularly ridiculous mention of having stolen skeletal remains from a museum... At each pause in the proceedings, Roda had been called upon to comment and each time, she had been left at a loss for words. There was nothing very convincing about saying 'I didn't do that' and 'I've never been there' over and over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once every supposed crime had been listed off but for the laughable count of High Treason - and cross-referenced with the Laws of Gallifrey, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just in case</span>
  </em>
  <span> they'd managed to miscount how many times the non-interference policy had been broken - there had been a recess. While Rassilon and the Council had left to confer in private and the people of Gallifrey had devolved into small groups of murmurs, Roda had hoped that she would get to sit down. Her legs were beginning to ache from being forced to stand in the force field, and she wanted to go somewhere quiet so that she could think of what to say in her favour. But when it became clear - ten minutes later - that she was not going to be sent back to her cell, she had sighed and glanced at Temia and decided to sit down on the floor, cross-legged, and do her best </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to find out what would happen if she touched the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castellan Temia scowled at her like she had just insulted his mother, clearing his throat pointedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The criminal will stand."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda snorted, and swiftly learned something else about this new regeneration of hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The accused," she said, stressing the word, "will sit, thanks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Temia's nostrils flared in indignation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You will stand," he insisted, hand on his weapon, "as is the custom in a Court of Law." He snorted. "Although it does not surprise me at all that you would not be willing to listen to customs."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stubbornly staying sat on the ground, Roda felt her hands clench into fists in her lap, eyes narrowing. She took a deep breath, sighed and kept her face painstakingly neutral as she looked at Temia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you mean by that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," he shrugged, nose wrinkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda saw the Guards look at each other, shuffling their feet in obvious discomfort. She supposed they weren't exactly used to people talking back to the Castellan, let alone in the position she was in. But in this new regeneration of hers, she apparently seemed determined to test limits, and assess everything. She would not, she decided there and then, be caught off guard by anybody else ever again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You are Meyerodeon's daughter <em>after</em> all, it would seem."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda stared. She had been trying not to let the Castellan get to her, and had intended to stop listening to his sullking, stay where she was sat and think up what to say to the Council to get out of this stupid mess and go off to the Library and ignore the universe for a couple of centuries. But mention of her father caught her off-guard, and shook her new, unwavering intentions of calm and logic. It had been a long time since anybody had ever spoken about her father to her; at least, not as though he had been a real person, and not just some mythical influence on her early tothood. And as she couldn't help from let her mind wander to the man she still missed yet hardly knew, she couldn't help but wonder what he would say about what was going on now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Him, and her mother. She didn't remember Dahlesquintelias at all. She should have remembered something, like her hands or her face or... something. Time Tots had good memories, even of the day they had loomed. But Roda supposed that somehow, she had never really cared. She had been just a person that she was told about, and not a part of her life. But she had been on the Council - it had been her seat that Roda had held, if only briefly - and by all accounts, the woman had always been willing to speak her mind. Would she have sat by Rassilon and let Roda be tried, humiliated, without someone to help her defend herself? Would her father - the man who had cleaned her scraped knees and taught her to read - have intervened? If she had had a normal upbringing, would she be here, right now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She supposed she probably would be. If being </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rassilon's</span>
  </em>
  <span> ward wasn't enough to get preferential treatment, then probably nothing was. And she wouldn't have felt right getting it, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Was that ever in question?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Castellan seemed surprised by the answer, though perhaps it had just been how defensive she sounded. And then he smirked, and turned away from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Apparently not. But Lord Rassilon had thought that in taking you into his House, he would be able to make sure that one traitor did not produce another."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something snapped. Roda leapt to her feet like a coiled snake that'd spotted prey, surprised by her own agility. Out of a new instinct that was sure to damn her she reached for the gun that had been tucked into her waist, before remembering that she was wearing robes now, and that there was no weapon there, and that threatening the Castellan would be a very stupid and hopefully out of character thing to do. But he had needled away at an old wound that had never healed; one that Selesion had been able to find with acute precision and that had bothered Roda all through her childhood. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mock me, deride me, be disappointed in me... but my father was a good man.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Castellan did not miss the anger on her face, or the way that she had reacted. Though his Guards had taken a step back, drawing weapons, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>had stood stock still, unimpressed by the display. He wore his thoughts on his face, and Roda knew that if he really thought that she was a danger to him, he would have activated something in the forcefield or... or whatever he could have done. He held the cards, and she was defenceless. Roda narrowed her eyes at him, doing her best to figure out what the right question to ask him would be without just yelling at him to shut up. But before she had a chance, he simply took his post behind her again, and ignored her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The criminal will remain standing," he said, calmly. Roda glared at him over her shoulder, but his expression was now unreadable once again. “Until the proceedings recommence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit her tongue with difficulty, but it didn’t much matter, anyway. It wasn’t long until the Council and Rassilon returned, filing back into their seats above her. Temia stood to attention and Roda held her head up high, trying again to catch Rassilon’s eye as he looked down upon her. But he remained elusive, taking his seat and drilling his fingertips on the top of his staff as the room softened once again into a quiet buzz of expectation and nosiness. Rassilon didn’t have to fight for silence, this time; everybody was eager to see what came next. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Treason, </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought Roda bitterly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As if this situation wasn’t messy enough, now I have to defend myself against </span>
  </em>
  <span>treason. And because she had let the Castellan get to her, she’d not really thought about what she was supposed to do about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Council has reviewed the evidence brought forward to the CIA by outside law enforcement,” announced Rassilon, coolly. There was a brief hubbub of excitement, which was swiftly silenced by a raise of the President’s arm. “And we have found Rodageitmososa, of the Chapter Prydonius, last of the House of Meyerodeon guilty of all forty-seven charges-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t I get a chance to-!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As well as an additional forty-eighth,” continued Rassilon. Roda </span>
  <em>
    <span>swore </span>
  </em>
  <span>she saw a flash of something in his eyes, a silent warning. “Which was not previously considered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>else </span>
  </em>
  <span>you wish to add to the charges?” muttered Roda, darkly. The Castellan huffed, but nobody else heard her. It didn’t seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she was sure that if it did, perhaps she’d not be talking to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The penalty, of course, for breaking the policy of non-interference is a period of exile…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda stared; that didn’t sound too bad. A ‘period’ of exile. Periods ended. Was Rassilon going easy on her? It seemed unlikely, after the way he had greeted her, unless he was feeling guilty about it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As if he ever feels guilty about anything. He’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lord </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rassilon, after all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Perhaps the Council had brought him around, or there were laws that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was incapable of breaking?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, she dared to hope. Exile was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>scary. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But she had been away from Gallifrey for nearly thirty years already, and her return now wasn’t exactly making her want to hang around anyway. And in exile, perhaps she could figure out who the Redjay was, solve the crimes and clear her own name. Bring evidence before the Council that they couldn’t deny; wipe that look of constant disapproval of Rassilon’s face. Yes… the more she thought about it, the more exile - although unfair, seeing as she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>innocent </span>
  </em>
  <span>- sounded manageable. Maybe she would even be able to convince Peri to come to visit her, start having their weekly brunches like they used to, rekindle things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course, the bottom fell out of her stomach as she realised that Rassilon was still talking, and remembered there were more to her charges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The accused will be stripped of her TARDIS for the duration of exile,” said Rassilon, “and will-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. Glaring at Rassilon as though her gaze alone could make him combust, she raised her voice to be heard over his proclamation and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dared </span>
  </em>
  <span>her to ignore her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t possibly take my TARDIS!” she argued, utterly horrified by the idea. “It’s mine, I built it, we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>bonded</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” To be trapped on a planet for Skaro only knew how long, away from her closest friend? A TARDIS that was bonded to her imprimatur and wouldn’t know any different? She couldn’t comprehend it; not when she had done nothing they said she had. “You’re making a mistake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long, agonizing silence. Nobody dared speak, and Rassilon had risen to his feet, eyes blazing. Roda ran a hand through her hair, but didn’t look away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would not </span>
  </em>
  <span>look away. Finally, slowly, far too calmly, the Lord President responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The mistake, Rodageitmososa, was returning to Gallifrey and expecting the Council to show leniency in face of your actions.” He snorted. “Our laws exist for a reason, and traitors such as you would have us bend them because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>say </span>
  </em>
  <span>you are innocent?” He shook his head, addressing and glancing at his Council. “You see, she is utterly recalcitrant. Another Time Lady abusing our privilege in the universe for their own personal gain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda blinked in disbelief. “You’ve given me no chance to prove my innocence,” she snapped, interrupting his demonstration. “I don’t want to be treated differently, I want to be treated </span>
  <em>
    <span>fairly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Don’t I deserve a defendant? Someone to make my case?” She turned her back on Rassilon, squinting at the faceless crowd. “I returned here - to our </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span> - because I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed </span>
  </em>
  <span>by a Time Agent in defiance of - of our own treaties! I expected welcome, aid. Instead,” she narrowed her eyes, “I’m faced with stories of planets I have never visited and crimes I couldn’t imagine within a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundred </span>
  </em>
  <span>regenerations.” It was one of the longest speeches she’d given since her Academy days, but it seemed as though she only had one chance to win the crowd. “We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>better </span>
  </em>
  <span>than this. Just, fair… are we not?” She faced the Council, trying to ignore how Rassilon had gone red in the face. “Will the Council really be taken in by the word of other people over one of our own?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some members of the Council at least had the grace to look at her. The Patrexean, who she supposed must be the one that Peri had mentioned, was amongst them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not a familiar face, though. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There were Prydonians that she had sat beside in the past. Selesion’s father, though his sneer didn’t look to be budging any time soon. And Rassilon, who was promising with his eyes that she would regret her outburst. Roda didn’t care; she had had her say, and she could feel the change in the air. People had listened, and minds might change. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I’ll get a lawyer, and not be on my own? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She had to think of something good, to finish it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever mistakes I have made,” she concluded, letting out a breath she had been holding in, “they were never intentional. I am no thief or criminal or traitor. I am a Time Lord.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was the wrong thing to say. At the word traitor, she saw the corner of Rassilon’s mouth twitch, and he sat down, more relaxed than he had been at the beginning of her speech. She had continued talking - and he hadn’t stopped her - but he was considering something, and she didn’t like it.  Rassilon leaned over, whispering something to the scribe that sat by him. The young Time Lord busied himself with some kind of controls, falling over himself to obey, and a monitor flickered into life behind the sitting Council members. Rassilon rested his head on his knuckles, the picture of ease, and raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Roda swallowed. “You demand further proof, and it shall be provided. Furthermore, there is the matter of your charge of treason to consider.” He grinned, if only for a second. “I would be remiss in my role as Lord President </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>as the Kitriarch of your Chapter to not pursue every avenue. So let us kill two vortisaurs with one stone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The force field went down. Roda tensed up, not sure about the gesture as Rassilon beckoned her towards the base of the podium. Tentatively - very aware of the Castellan and his Guards - Roda walked forward, craning her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once upon a time, she remembered, Rassilon had made her feel small because he had felt big. Of course, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>had just been a Tot, but it wasn’t that. He was important, powerful, safe… a protector. Someone that the monsters were scared of, who had taken her into his cave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once upon a time, his greatness had been inspiring. Immense. She had looked up to him, wanted to make him proud. Let him fall into a box in her head that did not replace her father, but which said in the same spot. But now as she looked up at him, feeling small and alone, she realised that there was a reason the monsters were scared of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What else did monsters have to be afraid of than other monsters?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was as if he couldn’t hear her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As if he never had.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Keeper will be summoned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Keeper of </span>
  </em>
  <span>what</span>
  <em>
    <span>? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roda tilted her head to one side, palm on the podium, looking for… something. There was just sleek wood in front of her, no sign that she should do anything. She opened her mouth to ask further questions when a panel opened up; small doors parting, revealing something round sat on a stand in the middle. No, not round… Roda took a step forward, anxious that it could be a trick, or that perhaps she was not supposed to touch it. The stand was round, a transparent sculpt of a head, but the object sat on top of it. A hat or a helmet, connected to the panel by wiring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ordinarily, Roda would have been thrilled by a chance to study some new kind of technology she had never seen before. But there was no time today. Was she supposed to know what it was? Had it been covered in some lecture that she had inadvertently slept through?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could ask a small man in scholar’s robes appeared, a pair of glasses perched impossibly on the end of his long nose. He scarcely seemed to notice Roda, gesturing for her to move out of his way as though she was a small fly that hand landed on his work. He lifted the helmet from the opening with conversely reverent care, messing around with a couple of buttons and dials before handing it to Roda. Almost as though it would burn her Roda took it tentatively and looked up once more at where Rassilon sat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” it sounded like a threat, or a warning, to Roda’s ears, “Your memories will be extracted from the Matrix of Time. All here will bear witness to the truth,” declared Rassilon, as Roda’s eyes slowly widened, “as it is recorded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Matrix of Time…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This will show them, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, with relief. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Matrix doesn’t lie. They’ll understand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands shaking, Roda closed her eyes and placed the helmet on her head.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>― Frank Herbert, Dune</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was… quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda had never had to access the Matrix before. Of course they had learned all about it in the Academy, including how one could get a permit to access familial records for whatever reason. But it had never really been a topic that had interested her. Up until now, Gallifreyan history had been both the domain of books, and a topic that she wasn’t all that interested in. As a Tot, she had only wanted to know about history — of anywhere — if it had been to do with Robin Hood and the Untempered Schism. And if it wasn’t history, or engineering, then generally she hadn’t cared much about it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she should have cared. It was hard to see how it would help her situation now, but maybe if she had only cared about the things that other people wanted her to care about, this would all have gone away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was she supposed to do? Reach for memories? Let the Keeper do something? She could feel the Matrix tugging at her, and hear the thrum of a hundred thousand threads of time at the back of her mind. So perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the wrong word, but it was peaceful. White noise. She was a part of this; a part of Gallifrey, a part of the memory of an entire culture. It was a background noise, as much as her own hearts or the warmth of the TARDIS. But it was background noise that was like a language — one that needed translating. And from the outside, perhaps she could have puzzled out how the Matrix worked, but her own mind…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were still people around her. Rassilon, his searing presence somewhere above her. A thrum of danger from Castellan Temia, behind her. An unknown energy – the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keeper</span>
  </em>
  <span>? And a million Time Lords looking at her, waiting to see the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To see that I’m innocent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing she would have to face the music eventually, Roda forced herself to open her eyes, and the sights and sounds of the Matrix absorbed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small figure with dark, curly hair moved through a dimly lit warehouse at night, gun clasped tightly to their chest. Behind them, just around the corner, were a pair of legs; still, and laid on the floor. The figure looked over their shoulder once — as if checking for back-up — and then kept walking. There was no danger from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every now and again, they looked down at something strapped to their wrist, and then back down the corridor. They moved as if they were lost, or weren’t sure where they were going. They were looking for something, and getting increasingly frustrated as they searched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scene changed. The same figure, a hood drawn up and covering their face. As they ran, orange flashing lights and sirens picked up in intensity behind them. They ran with their gun still drawn, but with a package now tucked under their other arm. Voices shouted (feet slapping on the concrete floor) hot in pursuit. The thrum and burn of stun weapons filled the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seconds after the thief disappeared around a corner, the unmistakable sound of a TARDIS taking off drowned out everything else. The stunned figure from before still lay on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A skinny blond lay on his back in a hotel bed, one hand cuffed to the headboard. His breathing was laboured, the grin on his face broad and his eyes bright. Straddling him was a small figure, the tails of a button-up red shirt riding up and over bare legs. The blond’s free hand was knotted in thick, dark curls, pulling the figure down for a long, passionate kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, love. Keep doing that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They broke apart, the figure on top putting both hands on the man’s chest for balance as they continued to move. Music drifted through the wall from the next room, almost drowning out the grunting from the bed. The blond closed his eyes, lost in ecstasy and the dark-haired figure took his other hand, cuffing it quickly beside the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That the way you like it, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same man was sprawled out as the scene changed, passed out on the bed. The figure — now dressed — searched a bag on the floor, turning it upside down in a hunt for something specific. They swore, throwing down the bag and hunting for the man’s clothes, spread across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting down on the edge of the bed, they cast the man an apologetic glance as they checked the pockets of their trousers. By the third pocket they gripped something tight, wriggling it out. They held a USB stick up to the candlelight, and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light pierced through the trees of a dense forest as a handful of figures surrounded a cart, bows and swords and staffs drawn. A curly-haired figure crouched in a tree, aiming a bow at the back of the richly-dressed man driving the cart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unseen voice shouted orders, and judoon marched down a corridor, drawing their guns. Broken glass littered the floor between them and a fleeing figure, dark hair tied off their face and a blinking control device in their grasp. A small, excited dog trotted at their heel, tail wagging at the thrill of the game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They brushed hair out of their eyes, fingers ghosting over something hooked over one ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on… come in!” There was only static. “Saffron, come in! Answer me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure continued to run. The Judoon continued to chase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A green-skinned alien hit the ground, dressed in simple robes. Tangerine blood spread out across it’s chest, the item it was holding rolling under a table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tight, dark curls framed a freckled face, young eyes, a bruised nose. Fear radiated from them as the figure tried to pull free of leather restraints, strapping them into a metal chair. A dark figure paced around them, sleeves rolled up past their elbows, a determined expression on their face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the one they call when they want answers,” promised the man, stopping in front of the chair. “And I’m very good at my job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t tell you anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man threw a punch, fist slamming into the small figure’s kidney. Someone screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shobogans crowded around a rough, wooden table with blueprints laid out across it. Cups and rocks and arms held it down at the corners. Amongst them stood a figure, better dressed in red robes, hood sitting loosely atop a mess of dark curls. Black ink stained their hands as they pointed out details in the paperwork in a low whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a bell ringing and a door opening made everybody break apart. The hooded figure swept up the blueprints, hastily binding them with string before dropping them behind a desk. As the Shobogans disappeared between shelves of the Library, a pair of Patrexean students stepped into the room, expressions apologetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping their hood, the figure turned to greet them with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An elevator door shut as the tall man in a Time Agent’s uniform hit the ground, grasping their shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough, Rassilon. Your time has gone on long enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ripping the helmet from her head Roda stumbled away, panting. She thrust it into the hands of the startled Keeper, shaking her head and staring up at the Council.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression just smug enough to be noticed Rassilon looked down at her, and raised his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Rodageitmososa?” He stood up, gesturing that the apparatus be put away. The Keeper of the Matrix hastened to comply, muttering something unflattering about Roda’s treatment of historical relics. “Does the evidence not speak for itself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those…” Roda’s eyes darted back and forth as they scrambled for purchase in unknown territories. She shook her head, nose wrinkling, her mind rebelling at everything she had just seen. “Those aren’t my memories. The Matrix made a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury rose from the ranks of Time Lords in the audience, and Roda knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing.  The Matrix — by design — did not make mistakes. It was a catalogue of memories and history and DNA, a complete record of a complete people. It was infallible and ancient and final. What’s more, it was a Time Lord computer; it should not have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>capable </span>
  </em>
  <span>of a mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she knew what she had seen — or, rather, she did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Only one of the memories that had been shown to the congregated Time Lords was familiar; Roda, strapped to the chair as the Time Agent tortured and interrogated her. The rest was so unfamiliar that she couldn’t even begin to understand, and even downright wrong. The Time Agent had shot </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>! She had the injury to prove it, and she hadn’t had the presence of mind to even consider returning fire. And she didn’t know the forest or the blond, or anyone called Saffron, and she had certainly only ever read about dogs in books.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda reached to grab the Keeper’s sleeve, to ask him to check something. Reconfigure, or make sure that the Matrix had accessed the right person’s memories. But as she stepped forward Rassilon made a sweeping gesture with one hand, and Temia grabbed her from behind. He pinned her arms behind her back, dragging her — unprotesting — onto the podium once again. As the force field crackled and came back to life the Castellan let her go, and sniffed. The Keeper brushed down his sleeve and bowed low to the Council, before stepping to one side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda tried not to roll her eyes. It wouldn’t be a good time to roll her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>questioning </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Matrix?” It wasn’t Rassilon who spoke but another member of the Council. A Scendlesion. She stared at Roda with an incredulous expression on her face, which looked even more flushed in her vivid robes. “It is a record of all Time Lord history from the genesis of the universe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But none of that was me. I didn’t do any of that!” If anyone had been predisposed to believe her before, Roda could practically feel the support slipping away. “It must have been another Time Lord’s memories. Someone who looks like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A flimsy excuse even for the likes of you, Rodageitmososa,” sighed Rassilon, as though he was simply correcting an error in a quantum mechanics problem. “Although…” For a second, Roda dared to hope as Rassilon pursed his lips in thought. “There is likely some truth in your words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Roda felt like crying from relief, nodding frantically. “I promise, I didn’t do anything that you just-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After all, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>know,” Rassilon addressed the audience, “that should the laws of non-interference be broken, there are consequences. Mental degradation, confusion…” He trailed off, and looked Roda dead in the eye. “Dissociative and retrograde amnesia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bottom dropped out of Roda’s gut. “No…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not unheard of for Time Lords to incorrectly recall the details of their crimes. A defence mechanism, wired into our DNA to prevent further depravity. And, well,” he shrugged, “should a Time Lord be affected by this temporary effect no less than </span>
  <em>
    <span>forty eight</span>
  </em>
  <span> times, is it any wonder that they may fall to madness?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda’s eyes flashed. “I’m not mad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either you are insane, Rodageitmososa,” snapped Rassilon, “or you are dangerous. Perhaps both. Such an individual </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>be returned to society without bringing us all to ruin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous-</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rassilon’s eyes boggled in his head as he rose to his feet, gauntlet extended. He cut a striking, awesome figure but Roda was not cowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will not be scared of him again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>question the Matrix,” he spat, furious, “the word of the Council and even your Lord President? You, who has committed crimes beyond belief, and conspired to high treason?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” snapped Roda, just as angry, “to question the validity of a trial where I have been given no defendant and a guilty verdict before the evidence can be verified!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The evidence has been verified,” hissed Rassilon, waving at the monitor where her memories had been projected, “as you have asked. You have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>permitted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to speak out of turn, and we have only your word that the wheels of justice which have served us since the dawn of our race are inadequate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he stressed,“ lowering his voice, “are a treasonous, ungrateful and arrogant </span>
  <em>
    <span>child </span>
  </em>
  <span>and you have disgraced our people with your actions and your petulance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roda narrowed her eyes. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are an old, blind man who would rather strike his own </span>
  <em>
    <span>ward</span>
  </em>
  <span> when they ask for his sanctuary than listen to reason!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> will listen-!”</span>
</p><p><span>“No!” Roda made dual fists, shouting to be heard. “This is not an omega grade or - or a missed curfew, or Eighth Man Bound. These are my </span><em><span>lives </span></em><span>on the line,</span> <span>and you are too proud to think that maybe I am not the disappointment you think I am!” Roda knew that she was getting carried away, but now that she was talking, she couldn’t stop herself.</span></p><p>
  <span>“I am telling the truth. I am not what you want me to be, but I am not crazy or dangerous or capable of </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of what you say I am, and I am not a traitor! And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she snarled, jabbing a finger in Rassilon’s direction, “are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>my father!” She took a deep breath, realizing that she had the attention of the whole room; even Rassilon was still. “This trial is a sham, and you are condemning the wrong person, with all </span>
  <em>
    <span>due </span>
  </em>
  <span>respect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she stopped to catch her breath, Roda realised that the Castellan and his guards had their weapons drawn, and pointed at her. There was complete silence, but for the hum of the force field and the beating of her hearts. No one spoke; there were no words </span>
  <em>
    <span>anybody </span>
  </em>
  <span>could say, after her outburst. Nowhere to fall back to, no stable ground. Roda put her hands behind her back — acutely aware that she could be shot again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could be shot. Here, on Gallifrey. Here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the silence was broken. Rassilon lowered his gloved hand and sank into his seat, no longer sparing her any of his attention. He conferred with the Council around him for a second, voice so quiet that Roda couldn’t make out anything that he was saying. And then with an unreadable expression on his face he stood up again, tapped his staff on the ground like a gavel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is clear to me,” began Rassilon, calmly, “that your audacity knows no bounds.” He paced the lectern, and gave a dramatic, drawn-out sigh. “You have meddled in time, conspired to overthrow the President, consorted with terrorists, and wilfully denied it all despite the evidence brought against you. You are unhinged, a law unto yourself.” He took a deep breath. “It is thus only prudent that I overrule the Council in this affair, and sentence you to full exile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, I-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet,” snapped the Castellan, brandishing his gun pointedly. Roda shut her mouth, eyes dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will be stripped of your imprimatur with your TARDIS, your access to the Matrix henceforth suspended. You will be branded a traitor and exiled from Gallifrey, for no Lord of Time would do as you have done. Time will not recall you, Rodageitmososa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TARDIS. Matrix. Gallifrey. Exile. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roda’s mouth went dry, her mind blank.  Rassilon was still talking — further explaining her sentence, legal and official jargon that she could no longer focus on. Her legs felt weak, and it was all that she could do to stand. There was shouting, and protests, and cries of agreement; she heard none of them. She turned in the force field, as if — somehow — she would finally spot a friendly face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peri. The Stranger. A Shobogan; somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was nothing, and no one. Someone fastened isomorphic cuffs around her wrists, and Roda was led away. She could hardly walk. Images swam through her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Green trees, orange blood, small dogs, Judoon, pain, fear, confusion. Rassilon</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Enough to bruise, but not enough to break.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe. Maybe enough to break. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>How did she come back from </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>”And there are really never endings, happy or otherwise.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>— Erin Morgenstern, ‘The Night Circus’</b>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Roda… Roda, get up.”</p><p>Roda groaned, rolling over and attempting to draw the covers back over her head. It was too early, and her sinuses felt like they were full of cement. Whatever she has been drinking the night before, she made a note to never drink it again; it seemed as though her brain had been put through some kind of press, strained and then stuffed back into the wrong part of her head.</p><p>But as she reached for the covers, she realized that they weren’t there. Even stranger was the fact that somebody was calling her name. This was her TARDIS; no one else was <em> ever </em>on her TARDIS, not since she had gone travelling. So why was someone calling her name, and where was her comfortable bed? Her warm blanket? The purring of the dozing TARDIS?</p><p>She opened one eye, and immediately regretted it. Instead of darkness, there was bright light. Instead of warmth, it was cold, and empty, and chilling to the bone in more ways than literal. Instead of her TARDIS she saw force field walls and when she tried to blink, pain lanced not just through her head but through her eyes, her shoulder, her entire being. And somebody was still calling her name.</p><p>“Skaro, Karn and Mondas, Tot, <em> move </em>!”</p><p>Roda’s eyes snapped open, and she was on her feet in a second despite the discomfort. The events of the past few days all came back to her like a hammer to the gut. Being captured, shot, regenerating. The trial; the Matrix. Her sentence… exile. </p><p>Being left alone in a cell, no friends, no sound, no other people, no idea when life — as she knew it — would end.</p><p>They had severed her from the Matrix as soon as her trial was over, but she could still feel her TARDIS. She could only guess where it was impounded, but at least she had <em> that </em> connection. One living thing that she could still reach out for, with her mind, and recognize. Everyone else in her mind was gone. That morning, she had been a part of Gallifrey; now, she was not. It was hard to grasp, even though the psychic brand on her shoulder still ached and burned as a stark reminder of how <em> wrong </em>she was. It had taken Temia and both of his guards to hold her down, hold her still. Cool, calm, ruthless. Like she was just an animal.</p><p>She hadn’t  known they still branded traitors. But then, there hadn’t <em> been </em> a traitor, not since the Dark Age. Not until <em> her. </em></p><p>“Roda, please…”</p><p>Two voices. She hadn’t recognized that there were two voices trying to get her attention until now. Roda shook her head, rubbing her eyes and trying to shoo the fog from her mind. <em> There’ll be time for self pity for the rest of your lives. Pay attention. </em>Standing in front of her cell were two figures — one tall, one shorter — fidgeting with degrees of anxiety. </p><p>Somehow, the first didn’t surprise her at all. The Stranger looked frustrated and… exhausted? Like he had somewhere else to be. His arms were folded across his chest, there was something clasped in one of his hands, and his posture seemed somehow less confident. His companion, on the other hand, was looking up and down the corridor, eyes darting as though they expected an ambush at any second. Roda could see sweat on their brow, and they were playing with the neckline of their robes as if choked by them.</p><p>They made the most unlikely pair. Under better circumstances, Roda would have laughed.</p><p>“...Peri?” Roda shook her pounding head, clutching the dressing on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.”</p><p>“Neither should <em> you </em>,” argued Peri, his voice anguished. “This is all wrong, Roda.”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” the Stranger snapped, “Roda, Peri, Peri, Roda, glad you’re reconnecting now <em> shift it </em> , <em> mes amies. </em>We haven’t got time.”</p><p>Roda narrowed her eyes, biting back a sudden rush of tears that threatened to well up. “Oh, haven’t you heard? I have <em> plenty </em>of time; all the time in the universe to contemplate my life in exile, no thanks to you.”</p><p>Unfolding his arms and gesturing with the object in his hand, the Stranger glowered. “I broke you out of that cell back in the Peninsula," he massaged his side; <em>had he fallen, hurt himself saving me?</em>, "and I’m doing it again. Do you think I <em> wanted </em>Ja-!” He stopped, suddenly, and shook his head. “Never mind.”</p><p>Roda faltered, staring from the Stranger to an even more baffled Peri. </p><p>“Wait….” Peri frowned. He stared at Roda in disbelief. “You broke out of a <em> prison </em>?!”</p><p>“Omega help me,” murmured the Stranger. “What do you think we’re doing <em> here </em> ?” Scratching his jaw he looked at the ceiling, counted to ten, and then started turning a dial on the device. He didn’t meet her eyes when he spoke again, and his voice was more quiet. Almost strained. “Look. If I could have done it any other way, I <em> would </em>have. Believe me. Now hold still, Tots.”</p><p>“Why-?”</p><p>Before either of the Time Lords could answer Roda’s question, there was a bright flash of blinding blue light, followed by an almighty bang. Roda shielded her face instinctively, one arm raised. She heard Peri yelp with alarm, and opening her eyes she squinted through the resulting smoke as the smell of burning tickled her nose. It seemed as though she should have been more upset, or frightened, or… hesitant, at the very least. But all she felt was anger and confusion. Neither emotion had particularly much to say in protest of another prison break — not yet, anyway.</p><p>She didn’t even have room in her mind for relief.</p><p>“Better move quick,” commented the Stranger (as if he was perfectly accustomed to blowing things up). The force field generator lay in pieces on the ground as he tucked whatever he had used to destroy it back into his robes. “That’s going to attract some attention.”</p><p>Summoning all of her nerves — and the knowledge that if Gallifrey no longer cared about her, then she had to stop caring about Gallifrey — Roda stepped over the threshold of what had once been the quantum fold chamber. She knew she looked braver than she felt. <em> I’m going to have to be. </em> Peri watched her hesitantly, clearly trying to understand this change in Roda; even in the past few days. <em> But how do I even explain that I’m still </em> me <em> ? I just need to keep my head, until I’m somewhere safe. </em>Home was no longer safe. And the Stranger was right. Even if Roda was not the kind of person capable of robbing a bank or drugging a Time Agent or shooting someone, she knew that an explosion was going to bring the Castellan running.</p><p>After everything that had happened in the past few days, she could only imagine how badly that would go for her.</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>Peri was still frozen to the spot. As the Stranger began power-walking purposefully away - oddly stiff - Roda grabbed Peri’s hand and pulled him along with them. <em> I shouldn’t trust him, </em> she reminded herself. After all, he had given her the gun that got her into so much trouble. Who knew what else he had done over the years? <em> But he rescued you, </em> she reminded herself. There wasn’t time for a moral debate. <em> And Peri seems to trust him. </em>She might as well trust him for now, too.</p><p>“Away from here,” said the Stranger, simply. Peri tripped over his feet as Roda tried to keep up. “Before Temia gets trigger-happy.”</p><p>“The Castellan wouldn’t shoot us!” protested Peri, eyes wide. Roda bit her lip. She had thought that too, less than a week ago.</p><p>The Stranger scoffed. “Believe me. He would.” He paused, mid-step, pulled a face, and then shrugged. “<em>Temia</em>? I'd shoot him back, too. Or shoot first, even.” Peri — who had been about to say or ask something — started choking. Roda stopped running to turn around, patting him in the back and shooting the Stranger an irritated expression. But he only shrugged at her. “So would you.”</p><p>Roda scowled. “I wouldn’t shoot <em> anybody </em>!”</p><p>“Oh, but don’t you know?” The Stranger’s eyes twinkled dangerously. It almost seemed like a mimicry of what she'd said, just a few minutes ago. <em>Don't you know...? Haven't you heard...?</em> “You’re an exile now, Rodageitmososa. A danger to society.”</p><p>“Don’t-!”</p><p>“Get used to it. Now, come on.”</p><p>As Peri got his breathing back under control, the motley trio began to move once again. There were still no alarms, despite the hullabaloo they were making; a stark difference to fleeing the Time Agency. <em> Not that I’m in any hurry to get shot again, and he doesn't look too great himself. So it's not been long, maybe? </em>The Stranger knew where he was going and she and Peri could only silently follow. Roda had a hundred and one questions and a million thoughts running through her head. But right now there wasn’t time for any of them. All that mattered was getting out of the cells, and <em> then </em>making a plan.</p><p>The first question was answered quickly enough. They rounded a corner — where Roda remembered security would be standing — and there were two women lying slumped against the wall. Roda shot Peri an anxious glance, not sure how he would respond to the sight, but he only breathed sharply and stepped around them. <em> Completely unsurprised. </em>Roda blinked, more confused by her friend’s reaction to the bodies than anything else about the prison break.</p><p>“Are they…?”</p><p>She pointed at the Time Ladies, dressed in the uniform of the Castellan’s Guard. Robes and collars had been replaced by trim armour, and caps that kept their hair out of the way. The Stranger smirked, and nodded at Peri as he crouched down and began stripping them of their outer layers.</p><p>“Ask the Patrexean.” He tossed an embarrassed looking Peri a helmet and a pair of shoulder-pieces. Roda’s jaw dropped.</p><p>“They’re,” Peri scrambled not to drop anything, “they’re not <em> dead </em>. I just gave them a soporific.” At Roda’s blank expression he added: “They’re unconscious. He…” He looked at the Stranger suspiciously. “He told me who was on duty, told me to make sure we didn’t raise an alarm.”</p><p>Roda was almost impressed. Impressed, but also… pained. <em> Peri has a life here. He’s going to lose that if they find out he used something from the Medicae. </em></p><p>The Stranger interrupted her thoughts. “Told him to use something that wouldn’t leave a trace.” He held up two breastplates assessingly, and then threw Roda the smallest. She began to put it on without being told, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Your boyfriend’s safe so long as we get out of here.”</p><p>Roda and Peri both blushed. “We’re not-” began Roda, as Peri also spoke, gripping her arm. His face was pale, nervous. Roda narrowed her eyes in concern.</p><p>“It’s okay, Roda. I had to. He - he said they wouldn’t exile you.” He wrung his hands, obviously uncomfortable with the disguises and the entire situation…. But he still <em>cared</em>. She tried to give him a small smile of thanks. “That they were going to throw you in the Oubliette of Eternity and let you join the ranks of the Neverpeople...”</p><p>“Rassilon said <em> exile</em>,” argued Roda, the word bitter on her tongue. She touched her shoulder. “The Matrix. The brand…”</p><p>“He showed me,” said Peri, shaking his head. “He overheard them, and came to find me. I couldn’t let that happen.”</p><p>“And you believe him?” Roda ran a hand over her face. “Peri, I don’t even know who he <em> is </em>!”</p><p>They were both in the ill-fitting uniforms, and the Stranger was pulling a hood up over his head. Unaffected by their suspicion, he tugged loose a handful of curls, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and tipped his head to one side.</p><p><em>Where’s </em>his <em>disguise…? Is</em> that <em>his disguise?</em> <em>He almost looks like me. Well, old me. But taller.</em></p><p>“He wants you to go mad. <em> Forget,</em>” said the Stranger, without a trace of emotion. Far too calmly. “Despair. Give up. Be forgotten.”</p><p>“Why?” Roda made a fist, placing the cap on her head and trying to cover her hair. It was easier, now that it was shorter, less curly. The act, though, stopped her from screaming (out loud). <em> I can’t believe I’m breaking out of prison with my ex and a man I don’t know because I’m a </em> criminal <em> apparently. </em> “Did he just always <em> hate </em> me?”</p><p>The Stranger sighed, and looked away. He cleared his throat, and then checked an array of things strapped to his waist. His voice was quiet and his actions hurried, distracted, even, and it took him a minute to actually answer the question Roda had asked. At first, all he did was fuss with their disguises, and watch the corridor. She had been about to ask him again — less patient, this time — when he spoke up at last.</p><p>“Rassilon is a bastard,” he declared, coldly. The coldest Roda had ever heard him. “The sooner you learn that, the sooner it stops hurting..”</p><p>“You can’t say that,” spluttered Peri, clearly uncomfortable with the stun gun he was supposed to be carrying. “He’s the President.”</p><p>The Stranger snorted. “You can be <em> both</em>.”</p><p>“I don’t understand,” replied Roda, quietly.</p><p>“You will. One day.”</p><p>But it still wasn’t an <em> answer </em> . Roda realised she was simultaneously desperate to understand, and didn’t want to know. She shook her head, and tried to focus on the <em> current </em>plan instead — the uniforms, getting off Gallifrey, not losing her TARDIS — but her thoughts kept drifting. The despair that the Stranger was talking about seemed to tug at her insides, beckoning her forth… but she couldn’t give in to it. </p><p>At least not until she (and more importantly, Peri) was out of danger. <em> At this stage it’s not as though </em> I <em> can get into more trouble. But Peri’s never put a foot out of line in his entire life, until now. </em> If this escape — and it was hard to believe she was thinking about escapes in her life, <em> plural </em>— went as badly as the last one that the Stranger was a part of, then it could ruin him. His practice, his straight alpha record… even exile him too.</p><p>Roda set her jaw. No matter her own feelings, this had to <em> work. </em>Not for her, but for Peri. He was risking everything for her; she would do the same.</p><p>“Anyway.” She cleared her throat, trying to sound as though her emotions were entirely under control. Tugging at the uniform sleeve, she raised an eyebrow. “Why the change of clothes?”</p><p>“Did you like the robes?” The Stranger joked. Roda glowered at him, and he raised a hand in apology. “Hard audience. But, you’re right. We have to focus. <em> You</em>,” he nodded at Roda, “are conspicuous. Nobody is supposed to be down here, and everyone on Gallifrey knows the clothes you’ve been wearing for the last couple of days.” Roda huffed, but he had a point. “That, and people are going to remember your <em> last </em> face. The one from the Matrix.” He smirked joylessly. “Pretty damning evidence, but it’s useful.” Peri shot Roda a sideways look, and she shook her head as she bit her tongue. “So that’s why <em> you’re </em>playing dress-up. And I don’t think you want the Patrexean to be recognized, either.”</p><p>Roda shook her head. “No. Better me than him.”</p><p>“Roda…” murmured Peri. But he sighed, recognizing a losing argument when he began one.</p><p>The Stranger continued. “I’m going to make a scene,” he explained, “which I am <em> very </em> good at. After which I am getting the Skaro out of dodge before something stupid happens. And you two,” he pointed at Roda and Peri, “are going to walk calmly up those stairs,” he pointed to the end of the corridor, “and into the evidence impound, as though there has <em> not </em>been an explosion down here that I have looped on the security feed."</p><p>Roda gave him a dry look. "And this is going to work better than last time because...?"</p><p>"Because as my friend would say, I’m very clever.” He scowled at her. "And anyway, you got through the lobby fine, didn't you."</p><p>“I-"</p><p>"The defence rests."</p><p>Roda wanted to say more, but simply sighed and rolled her eyes. "How do we get in?”</p><p>The Stranger paused, patted down his robes and pockets, and then triumphantly handed Roda what looked suspiciously like a security keycard. Peri’s eyes widened.</p><p>“Did you <em> steal </em>that?!”</p><p>"He's good at that..."</p><p>Roda turned it over in her hands as the Stranger did a terrible job of concealing a laugh.</p><p>“You’re both just lucky I budgeted for stupid questions, because we’re on the clock.” He patted Peri on the head. “Yes, I stole it. No, you won’t get into trouble unless you get caught.” He began to count on his fingers. “Yes, it will work because I tested it when I stole it. No, I didn’t shoot anybody to get it, I’m <em> much </em> more charming than that, you’re going there to get your TARDIS,” Roda opened and shut her mouth, “and finally,” he grinned, “as a friend of a friend puts it, <em> spoilers </em>.”</p><p>Roda couldn’t help but roll her eyes, again.</p><p>“Who are you, my <em> mother </em>?”</p><p>The Stranger snorted. “<em>Not </em> the guess I expected. No, not the life for me. Now, get going.” His expression turned more serious as he drew a gun from its holster. “Unless you want to get thrown back in that cell again or join me in shooting my way out?”</p><p>“What about you?” asked Roda, at the same time that Peri spoke.</p><p>“Are you going to kill people?!”</p><p>The Stranger scowled. “Rassilon, no. Do I look like I kill people?” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m going to blow more things up,” he said — Peri looked less reassured than Roda suspected the Stranger had hoped, “and then I’m going to hide out with an old friend until everything blows over.”</p><p>“...Thank you.”</p><p>It didn’t seem like enough, but it was the only thing that Roda could think of to say. <em> He hasn’t always seemed… safe. But he’s always helped me. And I don’t even know </em> why <em> and I’ve never said it before. </em> Because she had to say something; either because the Stranger deserved it, or to fill the quiet to keep her own mind from bubbling over with anxiety. She had no idea who he was. With everything that had happened, here on Gallifrey, she might <em> never </em> find out who he was. But it didn’t matter, she realised. If time could make her its bitch and Gallifrey could be so <em> wrong </em> and everything she knew could be ripped out from underneath her, then maybe she didn’t need all of the answers.</p><p>He had stopped her from making so many mistakes, and saved her half the other times. <em> Not just him. </em> So had Peri and so, once upon a time, had Rassilon. But it was Peri and the Stranger who were here today. Those two friends — one familiar, one unknown — who believed her. That mattered. Not what hurt. What <em> helped </em>. </p><p>The Stranger shrugged. “It’s what I do.”</p><p>Before she or Peri could say anything else, he ducked between them, patted Peri’s shoulder once again, and left them alone. If he stumbled a little in his exit, favouring one side, Roda didn't have time to shout after him.</p><p>She took a deep breath, looked down the corridor in the direction they had been told to go, and held on tight to the keycard. Then she looked her first love and oldest friend in the eye, and held out her hand. </p><p>Without hesitating Peri took it, and squeezed tight. He shot her a weak and weary smile.</p><p>“I guess you’re going to get me into trouble one last time.”</p><p>Roda took another breath, and grabbed greedily for his other hand, clasping them both in hers. For just a second, she forgot where they were, and who they were meant to be. Forgot that they were running on borrowed time; and that she might be setting her clocks by it for the rest of her lives. For that one moment there was Rodageitmososa, and there was Perigraphaltas. It didn’t matter if they were in a prison or the top of Mount Perdition or the back of a lecture hall, listening to Borusa going on and on. She remembered being with him — talking, studying, hiking, laughing, even fighting. She remembered crying on his shoulder, and the way he looked first thing in the morning. She remembered listening to him talk about medical science, and trying to understand. She remembered his smile.</p><p>Once, Roda had promised him that it would <em> always </em> be them. Just them, nobody else, forever. A perfect snapshot of an impossible life that only a Tot could ever imagine.</p><p>And those days were past. She wasn’t the Roda who had made that promise, and Peri was not the Time Lord who would want it. But they were close — noses almost touching — and she didn’t want to let him go. Not again.</p><p>“Come with me.”</p><p>“That’s… that’s the plan, isn’t it?”</p><p>“No.” Roda’s words were sincere, urgent. “Come <em> with </em> me. To the stars. <em> Fuck </em>Gallifrey. Please.”</p><p>“I can’t.”</p><p>He didn’t even need to think about it. Roda flinched, as though slapped, and then forced a warm (if sad) smile onto her face. <em> Well, it’s not the first time my hearts have been broken today… </em> But as she let go of his hands and turned away — ‘walk calmly up the stairs’, that was what the Stranger had told them — the Patrexean suddenly leapt forward. Before Roda could respond his hands were on her face, and there were tears welling up in his eyes.</p><p>And then he kissed her.</p><p>Eternities came and went in a touch, yet time stood still. Roda’s hands fluttered on Peri’s shoulder as she tried to work out what to do with them, and then his hand was on the back of her head, and hers on his waist, and it felt like the best days of the Academy again. The kiss was long, longer than they had time for, and sweet, and desperate, and agonizing all at once. She forgot all about the stranger, and where they were. Their faces didn’t match, and their noses bumped as they pressed against each other, seeking more touch. Needy and comforting and close and warm and <em>not quite right </em>but hers. His. Messy and safe and better than everything else that had ever gone wrong.</p><p>But all eras come to an end. As Peri rested his forehead against Roda’s and caught his breath, she realised her eyes were wet too.</p><p>“I love you, you <em> reckless </em> idiot,” sighed Peri, wiping his cheeks with the back of one hand. Roda laughed quietly, no idea what to say.  “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, so I had to… to…”</p><p>“I know.” Roda leaned back, and kissed him on the forehead. “This isn’t goodbye, it’s just…”</p><p>Except, it <em> might </em>be goodbye. She had no idea. And if the last thing that she ever said to Peri was a lie, she would never be able to live with herself; even if it was a white one.</p><p>“I know,” agreed Peri, swallowing hard. </p><p>“We… we should get moving.”</p><p>“I’ll clear your name,” said Peri, sharply. He cleared his throat, smoothing down his stolen uniform and setting his jaw. “We’ll get your TARDIS, then I’ll clear your name. I believe in you.”</p><p>Roda aimed for a joke. “That makes one person, then.” She paused. “Maybe two.”</p><p>“You’ll be back,” concluded Peri, as if he could see no other option. <em> He isn’t exiled; but maybe he’s right. Maybe I will. And maybe it won’t matter if I’m not. </em>“We’ll do brunch.”</p><p>Able to put the present behind her for just a little bit — long enough to be free — Roda smiled. She punched Peri lightly on the shoulder.</p><p>“Friends again?”</p><p>Peri nodded, and smiled back. “We never weren’t.”</p><p>Rodageitmososa stood at the door of the prison, raised her head up high, and for once she didn’t feel small. She might never truly be home again; or home might be somewhere else. But she would face it, and she wouldn’t run from it. She would walk calmly into the future, and try to hope for the best.</p><p>Rodageitmososa, of nowhere. </p><p>
  <em> Not forever. </em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And now there’s just an epilogue to go...</p>
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<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Imagine your life is a straight line, from birth to death. Now, try drawing that line on the paper without straightening it out.”</i>
  <br/>
  <b>— Captain Jack Harkness, 'Torchwood'</b>
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          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
Roda stood in front of a full-length mirror, and stared at the brand on her shoulder.</p><p>Her shirt lay crumpled on the floor, along with the bandage that Peri had put on her bullet wounds. It was saturated with blood, but it had stopped bleeding and didn’t look too bad. The gauze was itching. That, and it was hard to get a good look at the now-permanent mark on her shoulder through the medical tape.</p><p>She brushed the brand with her fingertips, feeling bile rise up in her throat. For the rest of her lives, she would remember the day she got it. The pain — mental, and physical — and the way that she had been treated. She would carry with her forever the knowledge that they had not given her a chance. The way they had been determined to prove her guilt, and not her innocence; and the way that the whole trial had seemed rigged from the beginning.  But rigged by who? And why? There were so many questions, but she steeled herself, and resolved not to look for them. Not now, anyway. Not until the ache faded.</p><p>If it ever did.</p><p>The worst part about the brand, she decided, fingertips trailing over the circles and lines of High Gallifreyan, was his seal. The Seal of Rassilon. The words <em>traitor </em>and <em>criminal </em>were at least just that — words. <em>She </em>knew that they were wrong, and so did Peri and so did the Stranger and so did, perhaps, other Gallifreyans. Her eyes could ghost over them as <em>just</em> <em>words</em>. But bearing the Seal of Rassilon on her shoulder bit more than anything else in the past few days. Because she did <em>not </em>belong to <em>him. </em>He had, she thought, made it very clear just how little she meant to him, despite everything. She didn’t belong to anyone but herself, now. But e<em>specially </em>not him.</p><p>With a sigh, she stooped down to pick up her shirt, pulling it over her head with a slight sniffle. By the time that she got her arms through it, her expression was blank. She had hardly paid attention to the clothes she had thrown on, once Gallifrey was far behind her, and she was parked somewhere she was certain nobody would think to look. A t-shirt from some planet she had visited, and trousers that were too small for her. (The Castellan Guard uniform was stowed away in a half-crumpled heap at the bottom of her closet. It seemed important to keep, but she didn’t want to think about it.)</p><p>She had studied her new body in the mirror, too. Just as she’d though, she was taller than she’d been in her last regeneration. A little slimmer, too, though it seemed more as though she’d lost the residual Tot-fat from her youth. Blond hair fell in front of her eyes — she would have to decide what she was going to do with it. It was long and straight, much different to her old, untameable curls. Her skin was paler than before; less freckled, too. But it made warm, hazel eyes stand out against her skin. <em> Tired </em> eyes, even though she’d only had this body a couple of days.</p><p>The looks, she could get used to. But nothing <em> fit </em> . She would have to get new clothes. For a second, the realization seemed hilarious. Through everything that had happened she had almost forgotten that she regenerated. What did she <em> want </em>to wear? What suited this regeneration? Who was she, this time around?</p><p>And what was she going to do with herself? Roda sighed tugging at the hem of the shirt. There was one place she had never gotten around to visiting that she felt certain would never let her down. Her appearance wouldn’t be too out of place, but she definitely couldn’t go there dressed as she was. <em> Although, maybe I should go nowhere. Just for a bit. Just lay low in the TARDIS, enjoy its company. Learn to make waffles. </em>Or maybe she should rip off the proverbial bandage and do something before she could let herself think too much about what she couldn’t have.</p><p>Robin Hood had been nagging at the back of her mind for more than three hundred years now. She had read all about him, all about Sherwood, all about archery and twelfth century Sol-3 and a hundred, thousand other things that might be useful. And the Untempered Schism had wanted to learn about him for a reason, she was <em> sure </em> . It hadn’t just been feeding her a hobby; something to read when she hadn’t felt like doing her homework. There <em> had </em>to be a reason why she was supposed to know his name. Maybe… maybe avoiding that destiny had been why her life had gone so wrong. So ignore any longer, she would not.</p><p>“What do you think…?” She spoke softly to her TARDIS, caressing the buttons and dials. <em> To think I almost lost you, as well. </em>“Where do we go first? Clothes-shopping, or Sherwood Forest?”</p><p>The time machine thrummed under her fingers, picking up on the emotions that Roda was doing her utmost to ignore. She smiled fondly, walking around the console and thinking.</p><p>Once she was somewhere safe, the first thing she had done had been to check her TARDIS for meddling. It had taken her several straight hours of work to be completely satisfied that nobody had limited its flight paths, added a tracking device or removed any of her modifications. Thankfully, hobbling her TARDIS — or Gallifrey forbid, <em> destroying </em> it — hadn’t been the Council’s priority. The Imprimatur was still intact, thank Omega. Her TARDIS had been as relieved to see her as she was to see it, and it was that constant feeling of love that was helping her keep it together.</p><p>It was going to be a long life; a fact that was at once nerve-wracking and reassuring. Perhaps she would be forgotten. <em> Maybe it would be </em> best <em> if I’m forgotten. </em> But at least she would be alive and free and sane. And she would not despair, no matter how much Rassilon wanted it. She would not give him that satisfaction, and one day perhaps she would get the chance to ask him <em> why </em>. For now, she was going to live, and try not to be bitter about it.</p><p>This was everything she had wanted, once. No responsibilities, no deadlines, nowhere that she <em> had </em>to be. It was still what she wanted… probably. Was it worth the price? Well, she’d find out, wouldn’t she?</p><p>“Shopping!” decided Roda, forcing enthusiasm to win over self-pity.</p><p>She grinned from ear to ear, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and ducked under the console for an address book she was certain she’d stowed years ago. <em> Can’t quite recall what decade or where in the universe it’s for, but there’ll be shops. </em>And it could be fun, going somewhere new, trying on outfits, seeing what suited her. All the things she had enjoyed in the past years, but with one eye on the horizon everywhere that she went. She would never let her guard down ever again… but that didn’t meant that she had to wallow in misery, either.</p><p>“Let’s go find some trousers that button up.” Patting the console, she added with a wink: “and get you a power wash, how about that?”</p><p>The TARDIS made a noise halfway between disgruntlement and begrudging enthusiasm. Roda laughed, dried her eyes and dropped the address book onto the captain’s chair.</p><p>“We’ll be okay,”she sat cross-legged on the ground, back against the centre of the TARDIS and pulled the book into her lap. “You and I. We’re going to be okay, I promise.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I started writing this prologue to Roda's life, I had no idea it was going to pass 50k, let alone 90k. I also didn't know I was going to have more than one reader. And so I'd like to say thank you to @elisi and @silvia313, who I'm dedicating this to. Thank you for your lovely comments, and thank you for keeping me motivated.</p><p>Want to know what's next in Roda's life? I may not write things in chronological order (oops) but check out the series' that this is a part of for more of her tales. Coming next in Roda's lives: <b>When In Sherwood</b>.</p><p>With thanks to <a href="https://www.deviantart.com/goatpaste">@goatpaste</a> for the art.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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